


The Killing Jar

by bellacatbee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel, Cheating Castiel, Chef Gabriel, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2014, Explicit Sexual Content, Extramarital Affairs, FBI Agent Anna Milton, Forbidden Love, Forced Marriage, Infidelity, Jealous Dean Winchester, M/M, Mobster Crowley, Mobster Dean, Oral Sex, Organized Crime, Prostitution, Protective Dean Winchester, Rimming, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Top Dean, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 23:02:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2485460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellacatbee/pseuds/bellacatbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean Winchester gets out of prison, he immediately returns to working for his old boss, Crowley. He’s only a driver and enforcer, following Crowley to heel, but it means getting his foot back in the door. </p><p>What Dean doesn't expect is that his childhood sweetheart, Castiel, is now married to Crowley.</p><p>Dean can’t stop thinking about Castiel and, when Crowley confides in him that he believes Castiel is having an affair, Dean finds himself increasingly jealous, imagining Castiel with another man. </p><p>He doesn’t realize that Castiel’s trapped in his marriage, unhappy and determined to escape from Crowley. Neither does he realize that there’s only ever been one man in Castiel’s heart - Dean himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this story. I didn't originally plan for this to be my DCBB, but I'm glad it is. I've wanted to write a story like this for a while. 
> 
> Thank you to diminuel who made the beautiful art you see here and held my hand while I worried. Thank you as well to impalathief for beta reading, and to Jon for double-checking everything the Saturday before posting when I couldn't tell if anything was good anymore or not.

 

 

There were no lights on in the entrance hall.

Crowley sighed and flipped the nearest switch, bathing the room in a soft glow.

He knew he was home late, but that didn’t mean that standards shouldn’t be maintained. He should come home to a welcoming house, not a cold, closed off one. Castiel might be new to running a household, but certain things were basic.

Crowley removed his fine overcoat and tossed it down carelessly across the hall table. One of the staff would find it tomorrow morning and brush it down before hanging it away carefully in the closet. He had more important things to worry about, things like an errant husband.

“That will be all tonight, Winchester,” he said, looking back at the man who had followed him inside.

Dean Winchester lingered for a moment in the doorway then nodded. Crowley didn’t need to watch him to know that Dean would let himself out, that he’d go straight back outside, back to the little room over the garage that served as his home. Dean didn’t pry and he didn’t snoop. It was one of the reasons Crowley trusted him. It was one of the reasons why he’d seen fit to give Dean a job when he’d got out of jail.

Crowley started up the stairs, heading for his bedroom. He was halfway up when he heard the front door click shut.

The other reason had had given Dean a job was his loyalty. Dean had never fingered anyone else for the job he’d been involved in, the one that had seen him caught. He could have turned State’s Evidence, could have helped the local police or even the FBI build a case against his boss, but he didn’t. He served his time, kept his head down and his mouth shut, and Crowley had rewarded him for it when the time came.

Crowley could be a good friend to those who were loyal to him.

As he reached the landing, a door at the top of the stairs opened.

Silhouetted in the light streaming from behind him, Castiel looked like an angel, casting a heavenly glow.

Crowley remembered the first time he had seen him, glimpsed through the window of his brother’s restaurant. The sunlight had been just right that day, shining through the pane of glass and illuminating him in all his radiant beauty. Crowley had wanted him from the moment he laid eyes on him, and he’d got him. He always got what he wanted eventually.

Castiel took a few steps forward. He had a tumbler in his left hand, filled halfway with amber liquid from one of Crowley’s private collection. For a moment, Crowley could almost believe that Castiel was thawing to him. He could almost believe that Castiel had waited up for him like good husband, that he had even fixed him a drink of his favorite whiskey.

Then Castiel lifted the glass to his mouth and swallowed down the liquor in one long mouthful.

The illusion of a dutiful, devoted husband was shattered.

“You’re home,” Castiel said without enthusiasm, simply stating the point.

Crowley wondered if Castiel hoped he wouldn’t return. Privately, he thought his husband would like that. He’d like it if Crowley was gunned down in an attack by another family or arrested by the police. It was Castiel’s bad luck that Crowley had manouvered himself into an untouchable position. The other families wouldn’t move against him, he’d ensured that with double deals and blackmail when he couldn’t make them see eye to eye.

The police had been much easier. Handsome bribes bought most men and those that couldn’t be bought found themselves working tedious, unimportant desk jobs far away from where they could make any real trouble. Crowley had secured himself without violence and accrued no small amount of loyalty. It meant he planned to live on for many long years, however Castiel felt about the matter.

“Aren’t you going to fix me a drink?” he asked.

He made it sound like a question, but it wasn’t one. He expected Castiel to be obedient, expected him to learn how to behave. He wouldn’t tolerate insubordination. Castiel was beautiful, but beauty really only allowed him so much leeway. Crowley was growing tired of his antics. He didn’t like Castiel drinking and he disliked him drinking from his own private reserve even more.

Still, he knew how to deal with insubordination. Everyone had a weakness. That little fact had helped Crowley to climb the ranks, helped him to take over. The important thing was to find their weakness and then exploit it. Castiel’s weakness had always been his family.

“I saw your brother this evening,” he said conversationally.

That seemed to be enough to prompt Castiel into action. He turned quickly, heading back into the room and Crowley followed him.

This room was his retreat, his den. He had decorated it in his own style, all wooden panels and leather armchairs. It was where he came to relax at the end of a long day. He didn’t like the idea of Castiel being there without him, especially not if he was drinking his liquor. He’d have to start locking the door when he went out. Better to nip this thing in the bud than let Castiel go on thinking he could do as he pleased.

Crowley sank down into one of the worn leather armchairs, watching as Castiel busied himself fixing him a drink. He enjoyed watching Castiel’s slender fingers pluck the cut crystal topper from the decanter. Castiel did have beautiful hands, exquisite really. His fingers had certainly never been broken and Crowley hoped they would never have to be. He had emotional knives to twist in Castiel’s case, knives that he had only just unsheathed.

“I fear that Gabriel’s standards are slipping,” he continued, watching Castiel carefully. “I do hope he’s not getting complacent. After all, I’ve invested so much in his business. I’d hate to see him lose it because he was careless.”

Castiel turned away from the drinks cabinet, glass in hand. His face was perfectly composed, an expressionless mask but Crowley saw the slight tremble in his fingers.

“I’m sure Gabriel’s standards will be to your satisfaction next time you visit,” he said.

Crowley smiled at him. Castiel really was quite perfect. He had his little tells, but Crowley had been play this game much longer than he had. He knew how to read people. With a few years practice, Castiel would be as unmovable and emotionless as stone. By that time, Crowley hoped his little husband would have grown accustomed to his new life. Castiel could be a powerful ally if he gave himself a chance.

“Good,” Crowley murmured, patting the arm of the chair, an invitation for Castiel to join him.

He saw a flicker across Castiel’s face, a moment of revulsion, but it was gone quickly. Castiel passed him his drink then perched himself on the edge of the chair arm, head held high, pride radiating from him in waves. Castiel was proud, but he had nothing to give himself airs about. His family had never been terribly important or moneyed, but they had always been proud. Always went to church, always kept their noses clean. Castiel would never have involved himself with Crowley if he’d had a choice and Crowley knew that.

It was why he was so grateful that every family had a black sheep. Gabriel Novak had always been lazy and greedy, a dangerous combination that favored easy solutions over hard work. He had borrowed from Crowley - too much, too quickly, and Castiel had paid his brother’s debts.

Not fully though.

Castiel still held out when it came to the marriage bed.

Although they’d been wedded in church, in front of the whole community, there had been no consummation. That fact still irked Crowley. He knew that Castiel didn’t love him. He didn’t expect Castiel to love him. He’d had kept boys before and they’d never loved him, but they’d all known what he wanted in exchange for his money and protection. They’d never slept in separate bedrooms or shied away from his touch.

On impulse, Crowley reached out, stroking his hand over Castiel’s knee. He owned Castiel, but he didn’t possesses him. Castiel still refused him. Crowley could be patient, had been patient, but his patience was wearing thin. They had been married for three months and Castiel seemed no nearer to submitting to him than he’d been on his first night in the house. Even now he was stiff under Crowley’s touch.

Before, he’d always been able to provide presents to the boys he wanted. That had always helped to thaw them out. Castiel was hardly the same type, but Crowley didn’t know another way to appeal to him. It would be so much better, so much easier, if Castiel was simply to give in.

“I want you to go out tomorrow,” Crowley said. “I’ll give you some money. You can buy yourself some nice clothes. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

Castiel didn’t look as if he would like it, but he nodded all the same.

“Yes,” he said. “I’d like that.”

“Good, I’ll tell Winchester to drive you in,” Crowley said. He slid his hand a little higher, up along Castiel’s leg. “And maybe you can buy something to model for me, something attractive.”

Castiel grabbed hold of his hand, stilling it. He stared at Crowley, his expression hard, almost a glare. Then, he let go of Crowley’s hand, slipping off the arm of the chair and onto his feet.

“I’m going to bed,” he said quietly. “I’ll try to find something you’ll like tomorrow.”

Crowley watched him leave, raising his glass to his lips to take a sip. He doubted Castiel would come home with anything. He would make some excuse probably, find a reason why nothing was suitable.

Maybe Crowley would have to remind him again exactly how precarious Gabriel’s situation really was. If Castiel thought they could remain married in name only, he was sorely mistaken.

Crowley wanted everything that was owed to him and he would not be deterred for much longer.

**

Dean sat at the dining table, newspaper open in front of him and cup of coffee at his elbow. He never would have dared to sit there if Crowley had been in the house, but the man had left early that morning. Dean usually had his breakfast in the kitchens with the staff, waiting for Crowley to call him, but this morning was different.

Dean wasn’t waiting for his boss. He was waiting for his boss’s husband and that gave him a bit of freedom.

It always bothered Dean, eating with the staff. He wasn’t staff, even if he drove Crowley around. He also carried a gun and ran errands for the man. Dean was a bodyguard, an enforcer and maybe even an occasional hitman if Crowley asked.

The staff didn’t like Dean, he made them uncomfortable. They might work for a mob boss, but none of them had ever done time. Dean wasn’t one of them. He didn’t belong and they all knew it.

No one in the kitchens had tried to stop him when he picked up his coffee and headed into the dining room. It would have been different if Crowley was in the house, but he wasn’t and no one wanted to contradict Dean.

In theory, the staff should have been as afraid of Crowley’s husband as they were of Crowley himself, but that wasn’t the case. Dean did wondered why. He hadn’t been formally introduced at any point. He’d seen glimpses of the man - tall, willowy, a figure at the top of the stairs or an image spied through a window.

Dean didn’t know if cared much for the man, but he certainly didn’t care for being a glorified babysitter and that was what he was today.

Today his job was to take Castiel out and make sure he behaved himself on his shopping trip.

Castiel.

It was such an odd name. It was an old name, a religious one.  
Dean didn’t know very much about Crowley’s husband, but he doubted that anyone who’d consent to marry Crowley could be described as religious, not unless they were especially good at forgiving sins. Crowley had married while Dean was in prison. Dean had heard about it, but there had been very little detail.

Dean had only been back working for Crowley for about a month. It didn’t surprise him that Crowley hadn’t formally introduced him to his husband. A man like Crowley would probably like to keep some distance between his personal life and his business. At least, that’s what Dean had thought, but now he was being roped in to act as a babysitter and he didn’t know anymore.

There were footsteps outside in the hallway and Dean stood up quickly, brushing any stray crumbs from the front of his suit. He knew that Crowley’s marriage was on shaky ground, it was all the staff talked about, but that didn't mean Crowley wouldn't believe his husband if it was reported back to him that Dean had been sat at his table, drinking coffee and eating toast.

The door to the dining room opened and Dean got his first good look at Castiel.

And didn’t he just look as cold as Dean had always thought he would? All pale and blue eyed, like something frozen inside, with his turned down lips and unhappy expression. He looked like just the sought who’d go running to Crowley the minute Dean’s back was turned.

Dean would rather spend all day polishing the sleek European imported cars that Crowley owned, rather than spend the day with Castiel, but it wasn’t his choice.

He swallowed down his resentment and forced himself to be professional.

“My name’s Dean Winchester. Mr Crowley left instructions that I’m to be your driver today. I’m to ask if you wanted to take breakfast in town this morning,” he said, hating the sound of his own voice.

“I’m not really hungry,” Castiel said flatly. “I usually just have coffee for breakfast”

His voice was deeper than Dean had expected. It was rough, as if he didn’t speak often, or if he’d just been down on his knees. Dean enjoyed the fleeting thought of his boss’s husband sucking some guy’s cock. It certainly made him feel a little better about his demotion in duties.

“I’d like to see my brother, Mr Winchester,” Castiel continued. “Do you think you could take me to his restaurant?”

“Sure, why not?” Dean said with a shrug of his shoulders. He’d have to get Castiel to direct him, but there wouldn’t be a problem with a little detour before they headed into town. “But Crowley said I was to take you into town, take you shopping.”

Castiel wrinkled his nose in obvious disgust.

“Then I suppose you’ll have to,” he said.

Dean looked at him again, surprised by his answer. He knew what he’d been expecting, and Castiel wasn’t conforming to any of those expectations.

This time Dean really studied him, looking past the superficial. He saw the dark circles under Castiel’s eyes, saw how thin he was. He saw the way Castiel’s clothes hung off him, too big for his small frame. The clothes were old, worn. They hadn’t been bought recently. Castiel didn’t dress like the husband of a mobster. He ought to wear tailored suits. He should be draped in furs and jewels, but he wasn’t. He looked ordinary in the middle of Crowley’s lavish and ornate house, as if he’d walked in off the street after losing his way.

He didn’t belong and Dean could see that clearly now.

He kept staring at Castiel and Castiel stared back at him, openly and unashamedly. Something stirred in the back of Dean’s mind, a memory long buried. He tried to focus on it, tried to make it clearer, but he couldn't look away from Castiel or his searching blue eyes.

“I remember you,” Castiel said suddenly. “Your freckles have faded, but I remember you. You probably don’t remember me, but we were just children. We used to play together.”

The memory came into focus, sharp and clear, at Castiel’s words. Dean remember summer days out in the street, shaking down the smaller kids for their pocket money. He remembered long nights, waiting for his dad to get home, cooking plain pasta on the stove top for his brother Sam so they wouldn’t go hungry. He remembered a little boy with wide blue eyes and dark, messy hair who never smiled and looked at Dean with his head tilted to one side like an inquisitive little owl.

He remembered how that boy had snuck him a box of cereal when his dad had been gone nearly a week. It had been a small thing, just a drop in the ocean, but it had meant everything to Dean. It meant food for Sam, meant he didn’t have to risk his neck stealing himself. If he’d been caught shoplifting it would have meant the police and maybe a visit from a social worker. His life would have fallen apart.

 

 

Dean couldn’t even remember how long they’d been friends. It might have just been for one tremulous summer, but it had made an impact on him. He hadn’t forgotten.

“Cas,” he said, and his voice was breathless. “Cas Novak. I remember you.”

Castiel smiled at him. His smile was sad, Dean noticed, and it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yes, that’s me,” he said simply.

Dean tried to smile, but he couldn’t. He knew that life changed people, but he didn’t understand how the Cas he’d known could have grown up to marry Crowley. Cas had been one of the good boys. When he’d taken that box of cereal for Dean, it had been the first time he’d ever stolen anything. Dean was pretty sure Cas had gone to church with his family the next Sunday and prayed for forgiveness.

He couldn’t picture the boy he’d known growing up to marry a mob boss. It just didn’t make sense.

Dean had always been bad. His dad had worked as an enforcer and Dean had been a teenager when he’d been initiated into the gang. He’d run numbers for them at first, then slowly worked his way up the ranks. He had always known he was going to follow in his father’s footsteps, but Castiel’s father had been a librarian, for god's sake.

This was the last place Castiel should be.

It was on the tip of his tongue to say so, to ask Castiel how he could have married a man like Crowley, but he forced the words down. He worked for Crowley. Crowley had given him a job after he got out of prison. He owed Crowley his loyalty, not some almost forgotten memory of a boy he’d known in his childhood.

“You’ll have to give me directions to your brother’s place,” he said gruffly.

Castiel nodded.

“I’m sure you’ll know it,” he said. “Crowley owns it, just like he owns Gabriel and me.”

**

Dean did know the restaurant. He’d driven Crowley there numerous times for dinners, business meetings and his weekly poker night. He had never connected the place as having anything to do with the Novaks, but it seemed that a lot had changed while Dean was in jail. Castiel filled him in on a few of those changes during the drive.

He sat up front in the passenger seat beside Dean, talking quickly and quietly about his family. Dean learned that Castiel’s father had died. He learned that Michael had taken holy orders and that Raphael had stayed at home to care for their aging mother. Castiel didn’t talk about his own life and Dean didn’t ask. He was curious, very curious, but he knew better than to pry. If Castiel wanted to open up, then he would.

Just because they had been friends once in the distant past, that didn’t mean they were still friends now. Dean was an employee and it was his job to behave like one. So he sat and listened, nodding occasionally and adding his two cents when it was appropriate, but for the most part, he kept his mouth shut.

Castiel, for the most part, talked about Gabriel.

He talked about how his brother had gone to culinary school and graduated top of his class; and how their father had invested heavily in him, using most of the family savings to help Gabriel with his dream. Once Gabriel graduated, he had taken jobs in various kitchens around the city but never for very long. He’d wanted to be the star, a head chef. He had dreams about his own TV show and a range of ready made sauces with his face on them stacked in supermarkets. Then their father died suddenly and the rest of the family savings went on providing for the funeral.

That was when Crowley appeared and offered Gabriel his first loan. Gabriel bought his restaurant and quickly sunk deeper into debt.

Castiel abruptly finished the story there, turning away from Dean and gazing out the window.

The car ride was silent after that. Dean was thankful when they reached _Bell’Angelo_ and he pulled into the nearest free parking space. Dean knew he was sneering as he looked up at the restaurant sign, but he couldn’t stop himself. This place looked like a tourist trap with the little angels painted on the sign and the obvious, tacky Italian name. It had always surprised Dean that Crowley insisted on coming here, but now Dean knew why.

Everyone connected to the restaurant was in Crowley’s pocket one way or another. If Crowley shot someone dead at one of their tables, no one would go rushing to the police.

That was how Crowley worked. He made deals, traded favors, bought people until he had created a wall around himself, a buffer zone that protected him against an outside attack. Anyone looking to take him down would find it almost impossible to break through that wall. Everyone knew what was at stake and what they stood to lose.

Dean couldn’t help but admire that. He’d always worked with his hands. He preferred to get dirty and make sure the job was done, but there was something to be said for the finesse of Crowley’s empire. He had taken a squabbling, ragtag, depleted group, used to infighting and power struggles, and made them a slick, organised association in control of anything worth their time and energy.

Dean still wasn’t sure how Castiel fitted in to all of this, what hold Crowley had over him. He was beginning to get an idea though, an idea that involved Gabriel at the heart of it.

Dean got out of the car and was just in time to run round and open the passenger door for Castiel. Castiel shot him a look as he stepped out, frowning.

“I’m not incapable of opening doors,” he said.

Dean shrugged.

“Crowley told me to look after you. I’m your chauffeur and bodyguard for the day so you’ll have to get used to it.”

He locked the car and got to the front door of the restaurant before Castiel, ready to hold that open for him too, but when he pushed against it, it didn’t budge.

“Gabriel doesn’t open for breakfast,” Castiel said. He nodded his head to indicate a little alleyway by the side of the restaurant. “We’ll be going in through the staff door.”

He headed down the alleyway, Dean in his wake. There was a stack of pallets outside the back door with a young woman sat on top of them, cigarette in hand. Her dark hair was messily curled and Dean guessed that her makeup was at least a day old, smoky and effortlessly smeared.

Castiel smiled at her as he passed.

“Hello, Meg,” he said. “Is Gabriel here yet?”

“He just got here, I think he’s in the front,” she said, waving her hand vaguely in a way that indicated she didn’t much care at all where her boss was.

“Okay,” Castiel said, opening the staff door and slipping past her.

Dean followed him, sighing. They headed through the back hallway, through the kitchen and through the connecting door that led to the front of house. Gabriel was hunched over a table, head resting on one hand, frowning at a book of accounts. Dean remembered him vaguely from childhood. He’d been Castiel’s older brother, just one of many, and Dean hadn’t focused on him. The Novaks had a lot of kids and Dean had only cared about Castiel.

The guy he saw now looked tired. He had dark circles under his eyes, lines around his mouth. Dean didn’t remember how much older he was then Castiel, but he didn’t think it had been that much. Looking at him now, Dean would have said he was ten years older than them or more.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps, a wide smile breaking out across his face.

“Cas!” he said delightedly, standing up quickly. “Crowley let you out at last. And you brought a friend!”

“This is Dean, and he works for Crowley, but you might remember him. He and I were friends when we were younger.”

Gabriel looked at Dean quickly, a sweeping glance that trailed down to his feet then up again, lingering for a moment too long at the bulge in Dean’s jacket where he kept his gun.

“Sorry, I can’t place the face,” he said, turning back to the table and shuffling the papers. “Why are you here, Cas? We’re not open yet.”

“I thought we could have some coffee,” Castiel said quietly.

Dean glanced at him, just quick enough to see the sag of Castiel’s shoulders, the disappointment that dragged him down bodily.

“I don’t think your husband would approve,” Gabriel said carefully.

“Crowley isn’t here,” Castiel insisted.

Gabriel turned back to him and raised an eyebrow, inclining his head towards Dean in an obvious manner. The inference was clear. Crowley might no t be there in person but his spy was there for him.

“I’m not going to say anything,” Dean said automatically, then cursed himself internally.

If Crowley asked him where they’d been that day, who Castiel had seen, then Dean was duty bound to tell him. If Cowley didn’t want Castiel seeing his brother, then it was Dean’s duty to keep them apart. He wasn’t supposed to forget himself just because he felt sorry for Castiel.

“Dean won’t say anything,” Castiel repeated, enforcing the words. “If it worries you, he can wait in the car or do something else.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. He didn’t want to go back to the car, but he didn’t want Castiel unhappy either. It shouldn’t have mattered. He should have just dragged Castiel out of the restaurant and asked him point blank if he was supposed to visit or not, but instead he stuffed his hands into his pockets and waited.

“He can help Meg bring in the delivery when it arrives,” Gabriel said after a small pause.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean agreed amicably. “I’ll just go and wait out back with her.”

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned away from the two men, leaving them in the dining room. He headed through the kitchen door and let it fall shut behind him, before stopping. He’d learned a long time ago that it was worth waiting around behind a closed door. A lot could be learned when everyone thought you’d gone.

A moment later, his eavesdropping was rewarded.

He heard Gabriel’s voice first, raised and angry. “What are you thinking? You know you can’t trust any of them!”

Then came Castiel’s voice, soft and placating. “I know, but this is Dean.”

“What does that mean?” Gabriel snapped back.

Dean strained his ears to hear the rest, but Castiel’s answer was lost in a mumble. Dean waited a few seconds longer, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to get more than that. He left the kitchen, treading lightly, and stepped outside into the murky morning sunshine that filtered into the alley.

Meg was still sitting on top of the pallets, smoking and tapping her foot.

“They set me out here to help you take in the delivery,” Dean said.

Meg nodded and pursed her lips, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

Dean held out his hand.

“If I’m going to be out here for a while, you better share,” he said.

Meg rolled her eyes, but dug her packet of cigarettes from her pocket and her lighter. She passed them to Dean without a word.

He lit one, placed it between his lips and inhaled.

Already, it had been a long day.

**

When the delivery truck arrived, bringing with it fresh fruits and vegetables from a local grower, Dean found he was the only one who carried the pallets into the kitchen. Meg supervised, then disappeared out back when the unloading was finished. Dean guessed she was heading back for another cigarette. He routed through the walk-in fridge, looking for the right place to store everything.

That was when the door from the dining room opened. Gabriel peered in, looking at the crates of fresh vegetables and fruit piled by the side of the open fridge door.

“Those need to be prepped for service tonight,” he said. “Where’s Meg?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders. He had a fair idea of where she was, but he wasn’t about to tell Gabriel. Gabriel already thought Dean would go running to Crowley without the slightest hesitation. He didn’t want to reinforce the idea in Gabriel’s mind that he was a snitch.

Gabriel frowned.

“I don’t suppose you know how to chop vegetables, do you?”

“Actually,” Dean said. “I do.”

**

Gabriel stared at Dean’s hands, at the steady, quick movements and the growing pile of diced mushrooms.

“Where did you learn to cut like that?” he asked.

Dean glanced at him.

“Prison,” he said gruffly.

The color drained from Gabriel’s face. He opened and closed his mouth, like a fish gasping for air, and his eyes grew wide. Dean couldn't help but find it funny. Gabriel was in the pocket of the mob, but he still didn’t seem to have grasped just who he was dealing with. His shock was comical.

Dean was good with a knife, he knew where to cut to cause pain and he knew how to end someone’s suffering quickly, but that wasn’t a skill he’d picked up in prison, whatever Gabriel might assume.

“I mean the prison kitchens,” Dean continued, talking as he chopped, the rhythm soothing to him. “Everyone had a job and that was mine. When you’re cooking day in, day out, it helps you gain skills quick. I’ve always been good with knives.”

Gabriel nodded.

“Well, if Crowley ever gets tired of you, you can have a job here. I’d love to have someone like you working prep.”

Dean smiled bashfully, looking back down at the little pile of vegetables steadily growing as he chopped. He knew he wouldn’t leave Crowley’s employment, especially not for a legitimate job in a restaurant kitchen, but it was still nice to be praised for something. He didn’t hear enough praise.

The kitchen door opened and Castiel peered in.

“Oh, this is where you are,” he said to Gabriel. “I thought you’d run away.”

“Dean’s been showing me his skills,” Gabriel said excitedly. “I’m going to steal him and make him a chef.”

Castiel stepped into the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind him. He peered down at Dean’s chopping board. Dean suddenly felt self-conscious. He hadn’t minded Gabriel watching, but he was sure that if Castiel kept it up, he’d slice through his finger in a matter of seconds.

He put the knife down and wipes his hands off quickly.

“No, no, no, you have to finish!” Gabriel protested.

“I don’t,” Dean said gruffly. “I’m supposed to take Castiel shopping. That’s my job for today, not prepping your vegetables.”

The change in the atmosphere was immediate. Gabriel seized up, his arms going ridgid, his head tucking in. He made himself a smaller target, protected himself as he did. Castiel frowned, pronounced and unhappy. The relaxed, friendly atmosphere of a moment before was gone and Dean knew he was the one to blame for it. He was the one who had reminded them that this was all forbidden. He was the one who’d reminded them that Castiel was on a short leash and had strayed too far.

“Yes, of course,” Castiel said. “We’ve been monopolizing your time, Dean. Gabriel, I’m afraid I have to go.”

He rounded the counter and hugged Gabriel, fleeting and the most affectionate they’d been while Dean was there to see. Gabriel hesitantly hugged him back, eyes darting to Dean, but he was the last to let go.

“I’ll see you soon,” Castiel said.

Gabriel nodded, his mouth set in a thin line.

Dean collected his coat and escorted Castiel back to the car in silence. He wished he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t disturbed Castiel and interrupted his time with his brother. There would have been time to shop later. He couldn’t turn back the clock though. What was done was done, and really it was better this way. Crowley thought Castiel was shopping. He had put his trust in Dean to ensure that Castiel was looked after, but also to ensure that Castiel kept to schedule. Crowley wouldn’t be pleased by any deviation.

As bad as Dean felt, he knew it was better for Castiel that he left now. He had commitments, however frivolous they were, and Crowley would want to see those commitments carried through.

 

**

Their next stop was much less auspicious. It was the sort of shop that catered to those who knew it was there and no one else. It did not advertise its wares in the window and the name above the premises gave no indication of what, exactly, was sold inside. The windows were tinted, preventing casual and prying glances and the front door was locked. There was a bell, which Dean pressed firmly for a few minutes until the door was opened, but that was the only way for anyone to gain admittance, to find out what was kept inside. It was a strictly private establishment.

The young man who opened the door was expensive. That was how Dean would have described him. His shoes were expensive, his impeccably tailored suit was expensive. His hair was cut in an expensively low-maintenance style. Whatever cologne he used, that was expensive too, a woodsy, earth scent that lingered enough to be noticed but not to be intrusive. Everything about him made Dean want to turn away, tail between his legs, and skulk off, even before the young man opened his mouth. This place would be too expensive for Dean, but he wasn’t here shopping for himself.

Castiel was the one shopping and he was using Crowley’s money.

“Yes?” The young man asked, raising an eyebrow, his lip curling slightly. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Do we need an appointment?” Castiel asked, sounding baffled.

He obviously didn’t know how these things worked. Dean did. Appointments weren’t needed, name dropping was and maybe a little money to grease palms.

“I’m sure someone called ahead,” Dean said smoothly. “The appointment should be under the name of Crowley. This is his husband.”

The change in the young man’s manner was immediate.

“Of course,” the young man said, standing aside to ushering them in, all wide fake smiles. “Come in, come in.”

Castiel stepped in first, hunching his shoulders and drawing in on himself. Dean followed him, struck by the sudden realization that Castiel might now be Crowley, not Novak. He might have legally taken his husband’s name. Everyone called Crowley by that single name, it was so easy to forget that he had a first name too. Castiel might be Castiel Crowley and however Dean tried to say the name, it sounded wrong to him. Castiel Novak had been the boy he knew. It was probably nostalgia, but Dean found himself hoping that there had been no need for an official name change.

The inside of the shop was well lit, but completely artificial. No natural light was allowed to enter in. There were mannequins on display, draped in elegant fur coats and wraps, looking like something from a bygone era. They were expensive though and that, Dean guessed, was the point. He couldn’t imagine that this would be Castiel’s first choice, but it would be Crowley’s. Dean took him to his tailor twice a week for fittings and alterations. Expensive clothes, the best of everything, that was what Crowley wanted and what he wanted for his husband.

Dean spared a glance for Castiel and saw that his eyes were blank, looking at the racks of fur coats with disinterest.

“And what were you looking for today?” their attendant asked cheerily. “Hat? Gloves? Or maybe the whole ensemble?”

Castiel reached out, brushing his hand across the sleeve of the nearest coat, a distant expression on his face.

“Just a coat, I think,” he said.

“Yes, certainly. I’ll fetch you a selection. Do you have a preference?”

“Nothing...nothing showy. Just black or white,” Castiel said, turning away from the rack.

The young man attending the disappeared behind a set of curtains that no doubt led to a back room, and Dean took the chance to step closer to Castiel.

“Are you okay?” he murmured.

“Yes, this just isn’t somewhere I’d choose to be,” Castiel said, lowering his voice. “I hate the idea of buying these things, encouraging them to kill more animals to make their horrible coats. You don’t think I could get away with taking just a pair of gloves home, do you?”

Dean shrugged and Castiel continued, speaking musingly, no longer to Dean, but just thinking aloud.

“Then again, Crowley did want me to model whatever I bought for him. If I take home gloves, then that’s all I’d have to show off.”

Dean blinked, the image of Castiel naked save for a pair of soft, fur lined gloves slipping through his mind before he could stop it. He opened his mouth, unprepared, then snapped it shut again as the young man came from the back room with two or three extravagant furs draped over his arm.

“Here we are,” he said. “Would you like to take a closer look? It would be best to try them on to see how they suit.”

Castiel nodded, composed again. He shrugged off his overcoat and handed it to Dean, reaching for the first of the coats to try on. The black was fetching, but the white seemed to suit him better. It brought all of Castiel’s icy, cold qualities back to the fore. When Dean had seen him first that morning, he thought he’d looked frigid, but now he saw the glacial beauty in Castiel’s blue eyes and pale coloring.

“I think this one,” Castiel said, turning back and forth to look at himself in the large, full length mirror that hung on the wall.

He looked down at the sleeves, which were too long, hanging pathetically over his fingers, adding a touch of childishness to the whole look, as if Castiel was trying on his father’s clothes. Dean found himself smiling. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Castiel in clothes that fitted well. Everything had always seemed too big on him.

“We’ll need to have it altered,” Castiel murmured.

“Of course,” the young man said, snapping to attention. “The alterations will all be included in the cost.”

He took out a tape measure and steps authoritatively towards Castiel. Within a few minutes, he’d taken down all the measurements he needed and he tucked the tape measure away in his pocket again, smiling with the same false smile he had given them since he heard the name Crowley.

“We should have that ready by the end of the week for you. Would you like us to deliver?”

“Yes, I think that would be best,” Castiel agreed.

“And a hat and gloves to match?” The young man suggested, no doubt thinking of the commission he could make.

Castiel shook his head firmly.

“No, just the coat.”

The young man took the delivery details and created an invoice to be sent along with the coat. He then showed them to the door, talking about how the black had flattered Castiel almost as much as the white and how he should come back and try it on again. Once the front door shut behind them and they were back in the fresh air and weak sunshine, Castiel took a deep breath, a shudder running through him.

“At least I have a week before I have to show Crowley anything,” he said.

**

After the furriers they went to lunch. Dean was surprised when Castiel picked a little diner and ordered a burger and fries. He’d expected Castiel to have more refined tastes, but Castiel seemed more than happy with his choice. After lunch, Dean drove them home. Castiel thanked him profusely for accompanying him. Dean didn’t feel he deserved any praise. He had been ordered to do it. It hadn’t been out of the goodness of his own heart.

Dean drove the car into the garage, sighing as he parked it up. It hadn’t been a long day, not like the ones he spent ferrying Crowley around, but he was tired. Seeing Castiel again after such a long time, being drawn into his life, was emotionally exhausting. Dean wanted to ask him so many questions, but Castiel was married to his boss now. Things were conflicted, difficult. Already Castiel had got Dean to promise to lie for him. Dean knew that if Crowley asked him about their day, he wouldn’t be able to mention the visit to Gabriel’s.

It made Dean uneasy, keeping a secret from his employer. Crowley had been good to him. He’d given Dean a job and a place to live. Whatever problems Crowley and Castiel were having with their marital bliss, it shouldn’t concern Dean, but he felt like it did. He’d inadvertently become involved with it.

Dean shook his head, getting out the car and looking over it. He took good care of that car. He polished it until it gleamed and kept it tuned to perfection. He knew that there was nothing he needed to do, but working on the car calmed him down. He didn’t need to think, he didn’t need to focus. He was able to just let his mind wonder.

He grabbed a bucket, filled it with water and found a sponge.

He had nearly finished washing the car when the garage door opened. Dean looked up, blinking at the light. For a moment, he’d hoped that Castiel would be the one standing there, but the moment his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized that was a foolish. Crowley was the one who stood there, as impeccably dressed as always, watching Dean carefully.

“I want to have a word with you,” he said.

Dean stood up slowly. He felt his blood run cold. Crowley knew that they had been to Gabriel’s. He had to know. Meg must have been on his payroll. One of her trips outside must have been to call Crowley.

“Did you and Castiel have fun today?” Crowley continued.

Dean made a noncommittal noise. At this point, it was better to wait for Crowley to accuse him than to incriminate himself. He knew that.

“Castiel said his coat has to be altered to fit. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Dean said, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. He didn’t know if he should be so quick to feel that relief. This could only be the first of such questions.

Crowley nodded thoughtfully.

“You know, Dean, I think it was a good idea to send you out with Castiel. At least this way, I know when he’s lying to me,” he said. “In some ways, my kitten has been something of a disappointment to me. I assumed by now I’d have him purring for me, but he still hasn’t thawed.”

Dean said nothing. He didn’t know why Crowley was telling him this, and for the most part he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t like the way Crowley talked about Castiel, didn’t like the pet names or the thinly veiled innuendo. He knew better than to say so though. Crowley had never confided in him before and Dean didn’t think he was doing so now. Crowley was laying the groundwork, spinning a tale before he told Dean what little job or errand he had for him. Dean was used to that. He knew the debts and life stories of everyone who’s legs he’d ever broken while in Crowley’s service.

“I think that Castiel might have a lover,” Crowley said.

Dean managed to keep his face impassive. He didn’t think Castiel had a lover. He didn’t think Castiel was that sort of person, the kind of person who could have an affair. He certainly wasn’t the sort of person who’d be stupid enough to have one when he was married to a mobster.

“And what would you like me to do about it?” Dean asked quietly.

“I’d like you to follow him, Dean, keep an eye on him and report back to me.”

“And if he does have a lover?” Dean asked, although he was certain he already knew the answer.

Crowley smiled.

“Put a bullet through the man’s brain. Make Castiel watch. Remind him that he made a promise to be faithful to me until death, but don’t hurt Castiel. I can forgive him his lapse if he makes it up to me.”

Dean repressed the urge to shudder. He was certain he knew exactly what Crowley would require in order to forgive Castiel. Even if he hadn’t known, the light in Crowley’s eyes now, the lustful glint, would have told him everything.

“Yes, sir,” he said.

Whatever his feelings on the matter, Dean had his orders now. If Castiel had been stupid enough to conduct an affair, he must have been aware that this was a possible outcome. Dean would try to shield him as much as he could, but there was only so much he could do. Castiel had made his bed and he would have to lie in it. He had married Crowley, whatever his reasons, and that meant he owed the man his fidelity. He had made that promise in his wedding vows.

“Good, good,” Crowley murmured. “I’m glad we had this talk Dean.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” Crowley said.

He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and took out his wallet. From the wallet he pulled a small card and tossed it to Dean. Dean caught it easily and looked down at it. An address was printed across the card and a name ‘ _Debauchery_ ’.

Dean looked up, one eyebrow raised.

“We’ve branched out,” Crowley explained smoothly. “The club is legitimate. It’s a licensed lap dancing club, but the boys work as prostitutes on the side. It’s a nice little earner and helps to grease a few squeaky wheels in the local police force. I need you to pick one of the boys up and bring him here tonight. His name is Inias. He knows he’s coming.”

Dean looked back down at the card and nodded.

Castiel had made a promise to be faithful, and that promise would be enforced with deadly certainty, but Crowley’s vows were much more loosely imposed. In the space of a day, Dean had been given more on a insight into their marriage than he’d wanted to have. He’d learned how loveless it was, how cold. He’d learned that Crowley was seeing whores and he didn’t need to have it spelled out to him to know that Castiel had refused his husband. So many things Crowley had said, so many little hints, had made that clear.

Dean would have said it was hypocritical of Crowley to deny Castiel what he was having himself, but he was far too smart to say anything of the kind out loud. Things were different for men in Crowley’s position. He was the boss. He got what he wanted. If he wanted to keep Castiel at home, waiting for him like a dutiful husband while he slept around, then Dean would make sure that was what happened. His own feelings, his own dislike of the situation, had nothing to do with it.

His sympathy for Castiel had to be ignored. Castiel wasn’t the one who had taken Dean in and given him a job. He wasn’t the one Dean owed his loyalty.

Dean tucked the card into his jacket pocket, tucking it out of mind until later that evening.

“Yes, sir,” he said because that was all he needed to say.

**

Dean didn’t think about that conversation again for a few days. He hardly saw Castiel in that time. He returned to his duties as Crowley’s chauffeur and general dogsbody. It was easier work than chauffeuring Cas around. Crowley didn’t want to sit up front. He didn’t want to talk to Dean. He did instruct Dean to take him to Gabriel’s restaurant, but that was to for dinner or to make a deal, not to see Gabriel. It was long nights and late starts. Dean normally slept in until noon, working up until the early hours of the morning. Most of Crowley’s business took place at night. Crowley himself often slept late, appearing as the sun began to set like some kind of vampire.

That was why Dean was surprised to wake up one morning to the sound of pounding on his door. He rolled over, looked at his alarm clock and note with disgust that it was 9.30 am. He’d only had about four hours of sleep. Still, if Crowley wanted him, it had to be for something important. He struggled out of bed, finding his pants from where he’d thrown them on the floor the day before. His shirt and jacket he’d hung up and they were wrinkle free as he pulled them on and tried to make himself look respectable.

The knocking hadn’t stopped as he dressed and Dean stumbled to door, wishing he could shout for Crowley to shut up, but it wasn’t on the cards. He opened the door quickly, even more surprised when he saw who was standing on his door step.

It wasn’t Crowley who had woken him, but Castiel.

Dean didn’t feel the need to be anywhere near as formal with him as he was with Crowley. He slouched against the door, letting his tiredness show.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Were you asleep?” Castiel asked. “Don’t worry, I’ll call a cab instead.”

He turned, about to make his way down the little flight of stairs that led to the front door of Dean’s garage apartment, but Dean called him back.

“Hey, wait, I’m awake now. Where do you need to go?”

“I don’t want to trouble you,” Castiel said, glancing over his shoulder at Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes.

“You already have, so stop feeling guilty about it. Now come on, tell me where you want to go?”

The guilty look in Castiel’s eyes, that Dean had taken to be guilt for waking him up, only seemed to intensify.

“Do you know the Starlight Motel? The one on the edge of town? I want you to take me there.”

Any tiredness Dean had still felt was gone in an instant. He was alert, confused and curious. Was this what Crowley had meant when he said he thought Castiel was having an affair? Had Castiel disappeared to this motel before? Castiel surely wouldn’t come to him if he was about to cheat on his husband. He knew where Dean’s loyalties lay. Or did he? He’d told Gabriel that Dean was different. Did he think that Dean was still the boy he’d known as a child? Did he think Dean owed him something because Castiel was kind to him back then? If he did, then he was in for a rude awakening.

“Dean?” Castiel asked, looking nervously up at him.

“What? Oh yeah, I know that motel,” Dean said, fumbling to find his keys. He was already making Castiel suspicious. He was good at hiding his feelings around other people, but with Castiel he became some kind of bumbling idiot, saying and doing all the wrong things. “I’ll drive you there.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said, smiling at him.

Dean tried not to feel like a monster as he sent Castiel down the stairs and went back inside for his gun.

 

**

If Castiel was having an affair, and Dean still wasn’t convinced he was, then he should be meeting his lover somewhere better than the Starlight Motel. It was a cheap, seedy place. It rented rooms by the hour and was a favorite for prostitutes and their Johns. The whole place had a grimy feel, as if it could do with a good, thorough clean. The paint was peeling, the windows were dirty and weeds grew up in the cracked tarmac parking lot.

Dean stayed in the car as Castiel hurried inside, collecting a key from front desk and disappearing into one of the little rented rooms. Dean waited to see if anyone arrived, but no cars drew in and there were no walkbys. Whoever Castiel was meeting had to be in the room already.

It was suspicious, but Dean found himself trying to make up excuses for Castiel’s odd behavior.

It was nearly 10am, which wasn’t a normal time for lovers to meet. Dean doubted Castiel could even be coaxed to think about sex this early in the morning, let alone have it. Ten in the morning was a time for meeting family and friends. That might be who Castiel was visiting, some friend or relation who Crowley disapproved of. It was still a problem, still something Dean would have to nip in the bud, but he wouldn’t have to resort to murder to make his point.

The motel, Dean reasoned, was another reason why Castiel couldn’t be meeting a lover. It was such a dingy, nasty place. Someone like Castiel deserved to be taken to a high class hotel, the kind of place that had silk sheets and delivered champagne by room service. He didn’t deserve questionable sheets and anonymous motel rooms.

Dean stared at the door Castiel had disappeared through, wondering if he should get out of the car and find out for himself what was happening, but he kept hesitating every time he began to move. If he burst into the room and Castiel was there with a boyfriend, Dean had only one course of action he could take. If he stayed in the car, he had deniability.

The thought of bursting in on Cas in the arms of another man, of seeing him in the throes of passion, made Dean feel uncomfortable. He thought it would be too easy to fire off his gun after seeing that. He’d get a thrill out of shooting the man who’d put his hands on Cas. It was a dark thought, one that rose unbidden and didn’t have any ties to what Crowley wanted him to do. Dean would be doing it for himself and that thought worried him.

The door of the motel room opened suddenly, startling Dean. He moved to open his door, but only Castiel stepped out. He jogged over to the car, frowning and Dean relaxed back into his seat. Castiel’s expression was not the expression of a man who’d had sex recently. Dean sneaked a glance down at the clock, relieved to see that it had only been twenty minutes since Castiel had disappeared inside the room. If Castiel had been with anyone, they weren’t much to write home about.

Castiel opened the passenger side door and dropped down onto the seat next to Dean.

“I’m ready to go home,” he said.

Dean nodded wordlessly. He reversed out of the parking space, checking his rear view mirror more than he needed to as he turned into traffic, trying to get a view of the person Castiel had been meeting, but there was no sign of them.

Castiel didn’t talk on the ride home. He stared out of the window and Dean was thankful for that. He had too many thoughts swirling in his head to deal with Castiel’s problems as well. He couldn’t hold a conversation, not when he was trying to decide his next line of action.

By the time they arrived home, Dean had it settled. Until he had proof that Castiel was conducting an affair, he wouldn’t mention this visit to the motel to Crowley. For all Dean knew, Castiel had been meeting Gabriel. If that was the case, then Dean didn’t know why they couldn’t have met at the restaurant, but he didn’t want to think about that point in too much depth. For the moment, he was giving Castiel the benefit of the doubt. It was easier to do that when he ignored all the inconsistencies.

Dean parked the car in the garage, turning to look at Castiel, but the other man had already unbuckled his seatbelt. Dean didn’t know what he would have said or if he would have said anything, but he was saved having to worry about it by Castiel slamming the car door as he got out.

Castiel went straight back to the house and Dean went back to bed. Even with his troubled conscience, he fell asleep easily, too tired to let his worries stop him from getting a good day’s sleep.

He was up again for the evening, ready when Crowley needed him.

Dean found he could look his boss in the eye and feel no guilt about his silence. He was investigating and he knew what he had to do if it turned out Castiel was having an affair. There was no need to worry Crowley about it until after the fact.

**

_Dean didn’t usually dream. The closest he got to dreams were nightmares that woke him in the middle of the night and left him panting with fear. This was a dream though, or rather the dream of a memory. He was back in that summer with Castiel, twelve years old and on the cusp of becoming a teenager. It didn’t surprise Dean that this was the memory his mind had dug out, had decided to play over for him again. He’d been thinking about Castiel so much recently._

_They were sitting on the broken down couch in the Winchester’s apartment. Sam was asleep in the bedroom. Thinking about Sam made Dean’s heart hurt, even in his dream. He hadn’t seen his brother in years, but in the dream his brother was eight years old and just a wall away._

_Castiel swung his legs back and forth, looking small and uneasy. He had never liked coming to Dean’s apartment. His parents didn’t want him to. They knew Dean was a bad influence._

_“I don’t know, Dean,” Castiel said._

_Dean took a moment to look at him. Castiel was skinny, dressed in his Sunday best that had always been too big for him. Dean remembered his father used to scoff at the Novak’s for their piety. He used to laugh at them for spending their money on suits for church and coins for the collection plate. John WInchester always had better things to spend his money on, things like bottles of whiskey and cheap cigarettes._

_Dean wondered if he could trust his memory, if it had actually been a Sunday after church let out or if his mind was playing tricks on him, creating a Castiel even more innocent than he’d really been._

_Dean reached out, cupping Castiel’s cheek in his small hand._

_“It’s okay,” he said, repeating the words he’d said years ago. “It’s normal, everyone does it. Don’t worry about it.”_

_Castiel nodded, his eyes fixed on Dean’s face._

_“Close your eyes,” Dean said._

_Castiel complied, shutting his eyes obediently. Dean stroked his fingers over Castiel’s cheek, a tender gesture his younger self had never thought about. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to Castiel’s._

_It wasn’t Dean’s first kiss. It hadn’t been his first kiss even then, but it had been Castiel’s._

_He heard Castiel gasp, soft and low, and move his hands uselessly, unsure where to put them or what to do. Dean kept kissing, as sloppy and aggressively passionate as he’d been at that young age. He’d been overrun with hormones and Castiel was so close by. He never said no to Dean’s suggestions, even when he should have._

_Dean knew their friendship was going to end soon. Dean’s father was going to come home in the middle of the night suddenly and move them on. He and Sammy would end up in another dirty apartment in another part of the city, and he wouldn’t see Castiel again until he was an adult._

_These kisses hadn’t meant anything at the time. They’d just been lazy experimentation with another boy who was close at hand. Dean hadn’t cared at the time, but he cared now. He wanted to view these memories through a haze of nostalgia, wanted to call this a summer romance, wanted to lay some sort of claim on Castiel. He had had Castiel first. He’d had his first kiss. Whatever happened now, whoever Castiel was with, they had no way of taking that from Dean._

_“Dean,” Castiel mumbled, but this time his voice was deeper, older._

_Dean opened his eyes to find that his dream had changed. He was still in the old apartment, Sam was still just beyond the wall, but the Castiel in his arms now was an adult. He was the Castiel that existed now, the one who Dean wasn’t supposed to dream about kissing. The one who was married to his boss._

_Dean pulled back, just enough to see that he was an adult too, not his memory self any longer, then he charged forward again and kissed Castiel breathlessly._

_He pinned Castiel down to the couch, exploring him hungrily with lips and hands. It was a dream, a nowhere world that wouldn’t exist tomorrow. Dean didn’t have to feel guilty, he didn’t have to hate himself for how much he wanted Castiel. The Castiel in his dream wasn’t married. He welcomed Dean, opened up to him and gasped out Dean’s name as Dean slid inside him._

_They rocked together, Dean growing more and more frustrated as searched for something he couldn’t get. He could imagine how Castiel would feel, how tight and hot he’d feel around his cock, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t real._

_He rutted against the imaginary Castiel, filled with fury because it would never be as good as the real thing. He need to know the scent of Castiel’s skin, needed to know the noises he would make when Dean fucked him. He needed to see the look on Castiel’s face as he came. He needed to hear Castiel say his name all breathless and desperate. The dream wasn’t enough, it could never be enough. He needed more, he needed Castiel. He needed…_

Dean woke, wrapped in sticky sheets, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He knew what he needed, but he also knew that it wasn’t possible.

Castiel was off limits and nothing could change that, no matter how Dean felt.

**

Castiel hated this cavernous house. It was too big for two people. There were servants, of course, and Dean, but they had their own rooms. They came and went as quietly as shadows. Only he and Crowley really lived in the house. They were the ones left to fill it with sound, but all they filled it with was tense, angry silence.

They ate dinner together in silence, the only noise the occasional clink of cutlery. The meal was excellent, but neither of them said anything about it. Castiel ate just enough to feel full and drank more glasses of wine than he needed to. He’d never had a taste for alcohol before he married Crowley, but now he was developing a tolerance for it.

Castiel wondered sometimes if Crowley regretted marrying him. He hoped that Crowley did. He hoped the man looked back on the day he’d issued Castiel with his ultimatum and cursed himself for it. Crowley had thought he wanted him, had thought he could control Castiel, but he was learning now that he couldn’t.

Castiel allowed himself a small, private smile.

Crowley had no idea just how uncontrollable Castiel really was. He could threaten all he wanted, but Castiel would not fall to him.

“Just what are you smiling about?” Crowley asked.

Castiel glanced up, looking down the length of the table to where his husband sat, glowering at him. He was reminded, suddenly, of sitting next to Dean at the diner they’d gone to that first Dean had driven him into town. They’d been so close, knees knocking under the table. It hadn’t been intimate, not really, but Castiel was used to the enormous gap of this dining table, eating his meal as far from Crowley as he could possibly sit. Even for all the fine food he ate, he’d rather have been back at the diner with Dean, sitting a little too close and eating greasy burgers.

“It’s nothing,” he said quietly. “I was just remembering a joke.”

Crowley looked disbelieving, but Castiel wasn’t in the mood to answer any more questions. He reached for his glass of wine, picking it up with slightly unsteady fingers.

“You had a phone call today,” Crowley said.

Castiel pretended to be disinterested. He sipped his wine, considering the possibilities. Anna would know not the phone the house. She would never contact him by the main phone. She was smarter than that. Castiel, tipsy as he was, would not give anything away.

“It was the tailors,” Crowley continued. “They phoned about your coat. Apparently, there is going to be a delay. I expressed your disappointment, of course.”

Castiel could only imagine how terrifying that call had been for whoever had to make it. Getting Crowley on the other end of the line must have made it that much worse. Still, it meant he had a longer reprieve from wearing the horrid thing and modeling it for Crowley.

“Did they say when it should be finished?” he asked.

“No,” Crowley said, “But they did say it would be a gift. They’re truly very sorry for the inconvenience this has caused.”

Castiel nodded. If they hadn’t been sorry before, Crowley would have made them sorry. It was better to offer a gift, to placate him. For all Castiel cared, they could continue to have delays for as long as they stayed open. He never wanted to wear the coat again.

He could feel Crowley watching him and he thought knew what Crowley was thinking. The delivery of the coat had become some sort of deadline. When that coat arrived, Crowley wouldn’t wait anymore. He would not let Castiel ignore him or shut him out. He would demand Castiel’s body and the consummation of their marriage. That coat was not just a coat any longer, it was a symbol of everything Castiel would have to do and become after it’s arrival.

Castiel swallowed down what was left in his wine glass, wondering if he’d be able to go through with it.

He had managed to distance himself from so many things since he married Crowley. He had dulled his fear with alcohol until he hardly felt it. He had shut away his hope, locked it tight and allowed no light in. He’d learned to be cold and unfeeling, but he wasn’t sure he could go to bed with a man he didn’t love.

He’d spent his life waiting for someone he did love. It seemed so stupid now, but once Castiel had been foolish and lovestruck. He had loved with the sort of desperate love that consumed youth and he’d never fully grown out of it. He’d always been waiting for someone with dazzling green eyes and an easy, charming smile. No one had ever completely measured up to what he’d wanted, so he’d never allowed himself to get involved with anyone. He had romanticized everything and his belief in love had been earnest. He’d been waiting for ‘the one’ when real life had happened by and destroyed all of his naive hopes.

He’d married Crowley knowing exactly who and what he was. He couldn’t love Crowley and he didn’t think there was enough alcohol in the world to make him numb enough to sleep with the man.

There was also Dean to consider. Castiel already knew he’d been reckless where Dean was concerned. The Dean he remembered, the one from his childhood, didn’t exist anymore. Castiel hadn’t seen him in years, and yet he treated Dean as if they were still friends. He was too trusting with Dean, too open with him. Dean worked for Crowley and yet Castiel couldn’t stop himself from involving Dean in the things he did. He wanted to be close to the man, just like he’d always done.

Dean had made it clear that he knew what his job was, he’d never tried to talk to Castiel about his marriage, never said a bad word about Crowley, but Castiel still wanted to believe that Dean understood, that he was on Castiel’s side and not Crowley’s.

It was foolish and the person who’d end up being hurt by it was Castiel. He was in too dangerous a position to keep behaving so recklessly.

He had to do something. He had to call Anna. Anna would know what to do.

She always did.

**

This time, when he woke in a bleary haze to the sound of banging on his door, Dean knew who would be there. He dragged on his pants and heading to the front door, half opening it.

“Cas, come on, it’s early,” he said.

He really didn’t want to see Castiel. It was easier to ignore how he felt when Castiel stayed away. What Dean felt wasn’t simply a crush which would have been juvenile, but at least controllable. What he felt was possessive and jealous, Castiel didn’t deserve to be at the center of it. Dean didn’t know how to love. He never learned. He just knew anger and that poured over into his relationships. Everything was intense, all consuming. He needed to be the center of Castiel’s world and he couldn’t be.

Castiel was married and he didn’t even know that Dean was in crisis over him. He had no idea.

He just stood there on Dean’s door steps, wrapped in a cardigan of all things, looking sad and small. Dean felt like a bastard for trying to turn him away.

“What’s wrong, Cas?” he asked, leaning against the door. “Do you need a lift somewhere?”

He couldn’t let Castiel into the apartment. For the sake of sanity, he had to keep things professional.

Castiel nodded quickly.

“Yes, I need you to take me back to that motel,” he said.

“Give me two minutes,” Dean said.

He closed the door and turned around. His gun was still where he had put it the night before, safe in it’s holster. He slipped the holster on, then found his jacket. He shouldn’t be jealous, he knew, but he was. He needed to know who Castiel was meeting in that motel room.

Crowley had wanted him to find out if Castiel was having an affair, but now Dean needed to know. It consumed him. He couldn’t believe Castiel would do that, but now the idea was in his head and he couldn’t forget it.

He remembered a play from highschool, something by Shakespeare, where a guy, Iago, had whispered rumors and innuendos to a man named Othello until the jealousy, the suggestion of what could be happening, had eaten Othello up alive. It had driven him to murder.

Dean already knew he was capable of murder.

This time, he wouldn’t wait meekly in the car. This time he would find out the truth.

**

Dean waited five minutes before he left the car. He figured that five minutes was more than enough time to catch Castiel and whoever he was with in a compromising embrace. It had seemed like forever as he sat in the car, watching the clock on the dashboard, counting the seconds as they ticked by. The moment five minutes had passed, he was out of the car, feet thudding on ground as he crossed the parking lot.

He didn’t care that it was the middle of the day. The motel wasn’t the sort of place that called the cops when something happened. It was the kind of place that looked the other way. Dean worked for Crowley and no one wanted to be in Crowley’s bad books.

He didn’t go straight for the door, but headed to the side of the building. There was a little window there, a window that showed the bedroom and that was where Dean went. The curtains were pulled, but they were old and tattered. There were gaps he could spy through. Dean pressed his face to the glass, peering in to the room, but what he saw confused him. He could see the bed, but there was no sign of Castiel or the person he was meeting. The bed was made, corners tucked in neatly and it obviously hadn’t been used that day.

Dean frowned.

He’d thought he’d given himself enough time, but it appeared that it took longer to get Castiel into bed then he’d estimated. Not that it mattered, Dean was used to waiting. He spent his nights idling away his time waiting for Crowley. Before then, he’d become adept at surveillance and he’d had a lot of time to sit and think while he’d been in prison. Dean was content to wait if it meant solving this mystery.

He needed to know, for his own sake, not Crowley’s, why Castiel came to the motel. He needed to know who Castiel was meeting. The thought that Castiel could be in there now with some man ate him up inside. He had to find out what Castiel was doing. If he knew, maybe he could stop dreaming about him.

If he could learn about Castiel, about who he really was, faults and all, then he could stop caring about him. He could destroy the pedestal he’d put Castiel on. He could stop desiring him.

As much as Dean didn’t want Castiel to be having an affair, a small part of him hoped that he was so Dean could be free of his sirens song. It was a petty wish, but he still had it.

Dean had always put loyalty first. He had always been grateful to Crowley, firstly for initiating Dean and then for giving him a job when he got out of prison. His father had worked for Crowley and Dean understood that legacy. He wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps and his father would never have let himself fall for the boss’s husband. There shouldn’t be a problem, but there was because Dean couldn’t be loyal when it came to Castiel. He was conflicted, shook up. He let Castiel get away with things he shouldn’t have.

If he could just find proof that Castiel was tainted, that he was just as flawed as everyone else, then maybe he could get some perspective back. As painful as it would be to see Castiel with his lover, it was necessary.

He waited and he waited.

The door to the bedroom never opened.

Dean checked his watch, frowning. It had been over twenty minutes and there was still no sign that the bedroom door ever would be opened. He didn’t understand what was going on and that worried him. He was no closer to finding out what Castiel was doing. He didn’t even have definitive proof that Castiel wasn’t having an affair. Dean had imagined sex, but maybe sex wasn’t what Castiel wanted. Maybe he wanted to be kissed and held, told that everything would be alright? There was no need to head to the bedroom for that.

Defeated, Dean turned away from the window, heading back to the car.

He was glad that there had been no one around to notice him. He knew that one flash of his gun would have been enough to scare people off, but he still preferred not having to do that.

Dean walked slowly, engrossed in thought, but he was not so deeply engrossed that he didn’t hear the motel door opening. He was halfway across the parking lot, but he turned quickly at the sound. He expected to see Castiel. He was already planning his excuse, blaming a need to stretch his legs as the reason he wasn’t waiting in the car, but it wasn’t Castiel.

Dean stared, shock making him forget everything else in that moment.

The person who slipped out of the motel room was unlike anyone Dean had pictured.

Dean knew what he’d had in mind. He’d imagined a tall, strong, dark haired man. The kind of man who could sweep Castiel into his arms and off his feet. The sort of person who might be charming enough to persuade Castiel to cheat on his husband and risk the retribution that would surely follow. In Dean’s mind, Castiel’s lover had been very firmly male.

The person leaving the motel room was very clearly not a man.

She was tall and very beautiful, with flowing red hair that fanned out around her head like a halo.

Dean watched her as she hurried across to one of the parked cars, parked much closer to the motel room than he was. She drew her keys from her pocket and unlocked the car, never once noticing Dean. Dean didn’t even consider taking down her license plate. He felt as if the world had tilted unpleasantly underneath him.

He had been so sure that Castiel was gay. Castiel was married to Crowley. Dean had been Castiel’s first kiss. From everything Dean knew about Castiel, he had been expecting a man. It felt as if someone had punched him in the gut to see the beautiful woman, who was even now driving away.

Castiel had always been out of reach, but now he was even further away than ever.

Had Crowley known about this when he married Castiel? Why had Castiel agreed to the marriage if he wasn’t attracted to Crowley?

Dean could feel the weight of his gun against his side, nestled in it’s holster. He remembered, with a sickened feeling, what Crowley had told him to do if he found Castiel with someone. He had told Dean to shoot them. Dean already knew he couldn’t shoot the woman who had driven off. He didn’t hurt women. That had been one thing he’d always been sure of. There were others in his walk of life who didn’t have the same code. Dean knew Crowley was one of them. He didn’t care who he hurt and if he found out about this, he wouldn’t show this woman any leniency.

Dean looked back at the motel.

Castiel was in there still.

He began to walk towards the motel room, not even sure what he was going to say. He knew Castiel was going to be angry, but Dean had make him listen. Castiel might feel betrayed, but hurt feelings were the least of Dean’s worries. He was going to tell Castiel what Crowley had planned. He wouldn’t beat around the bush and he wouldn’t sugarcoat it. He’d tell Castiel that his job was to end the affair permanently and he’d make sure that Castiel understood just how permanent he meant.

He’d get Castiel to see sense and end this thing before anyone got hurt by it. It was the best thing he could do.

They could just forget that this ever happened. Dean would never mention it again. He never wanted to mention it again. He just wanted to keep Castiel safe and this was one way he could do that.

He raised his hand and knocked uncertainly on the motel room door.

It was opened quickly.

“Anna, I….” Castiel looked at Dean in surprise, then shut his mouth tight.

Dean hated that he now had a name to go with the pretty woman who had been in the motel room with Castiel. Anna. It was such a nice name. Not harsh, not hard like Dean. It reinforced the truth that Dean never would have stood a chance with Castiel. Even if Castiel did like men, he would never go for someone like Dean. Dean was a criminal, a thug. He was scum and Castiel didn’t deserve someone like that.

Castiel looked pale. He held on to the door so hard his knuckles turned white and the paleness of his complexion highlighted the dark circles under his eyes. Dean hadn’t noticed them before, but he noticed them now. Castiel hadn’t been sleeping, certainly not the uninterrupted, peaceful sleep of a man with nothing weighing on his mind. Dean wondered if that was because his secret had been discovered or if something else had been going on. It would make everything a lot easier for both of them if Castiel had ended things of his own accord before Dean stuck the boot in.

“Let me in, Cas,” Dean said.

He didn’t make it a question. This wasn’t something Castiel could refuse. He stuck his hand out and pushed against the door. Both it and Castiel gave very little resistance.

Dean stepped into the room and shut the door heavily behind him. He stood between it and Castiel, blocking his path. He wasn’t going to let Castiel slip past him. He’d let too many grey areas exist, had let Castiel get away with too much and now it was time to remind Castiel of just what he’d agreed to when he’d married Crowley.

“Are you going to shoot me?” Castiel asked. There was no fear in his face, just tired resignation. “Do I have to get down on my knees, face away from you? Or do you mind if you kill me face to face?”

Dean hated how vividly, how easily he could picture Castiel’s dead body, bleeding out from a bullet to the head or chest. He shut his eyes quickly, shaking his head to get rid of the images. Castiel had some idea, then, about what Crowley wanted done. He’d just got the wrong end of the stick as to who Dean was going to shoot.

“No,” he said firmly, opening his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“What about Anna?” Castiel asked, and this time Dean did see fear in his eyes, fear about the life of another.

Dean tried to ignore the ache in his chest. He knew Castiel was having an affair with the woman. The fact that he cared about her shouldn’t have made his heart ache.

“She’s safe. She drove out of here a few moments ago and I didn’t take down her licence plate.”

Castiel nodded, the relief on his face palpable.

“So, what’s going to happen now?” he asked.

“I’m going to take you home,” Dean said firmly. “You’re not going to see Anna again. You can’t. If Crowley finds out, he’ll have her killed.”

“Is that what he told you to do?”

“I don’t kill women.”

Castiel shook his head, a small, wry smile dragging at the corners of his mouth. “So if they’d assigned me a male agent, he’d be dead already, that’s what you mean. That’s not as noble as you seem to think it is, Dean.”

Dean wondered if he’d heard Castiel right. He didn’t speak like a man talking about an affair.

He spoke like a man who’d have other reasons to come to a dingy, out of the way motel in the early morning.

“Why was Anna here, Castiel?” Dean asked, his voice low.

An affair was one thing. It was forgivable. It would mean blood and tears, but there would be forgiven eventually. If Castiel had done what Dean thought he’d done then there could be no forgiveness. It made sense now, why Castiel had thought Dean was going to kill him. That would be Crowley’s final solution to the problem. It was a betrayal he couldn’t live with.

“I contacted her. I wanted to see if I had any information that would help her, but she said the same thing she always says. I don’t know enough and it’s not good enough to get me or my family protection.”

“Fuck. Cas, you idiot.”

Castiel stared at him, his eyes wide in confusion.

“But you knew what I was doing. There’s no reason to be so shocked now.”

“I thought you were having an affair. I thought...fuck, Cas. Crowley will kill you if he ever finds out about this.”

“An affair? You thought Anna and I…” Castiel shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Dean, she’s not my type. I’m gay.”

“This isn’t something to laugh about, Cas!” Dean snapped angrily.

How could Castiel laugh at a time like this? Didn’t he realize what he’d done? He was going to get himself killed and he didn’t even seem to care. Dean didn’t understand how he could be so reckless. He had a good thing. Crowley wasn’t to everyone’s tastes, but Castiel had married him. He lived in comfort, protected and cosseted. He could be spoiled, adored, if only he’d let himself be.

“Is it really that bad, Cas? Being married to Crowley?” he asked, completely at a loss to explain Castiel’s behavior. “If it’s so bad, why did you marry him?”

Castiel looked at him searchingly.

“You really don’t know, do you?” he whispered, amazed. “I thought everyone knew.”

“Knew what?” Dean asked, irritation starting to sink into his voice.

He needed to know what Castiel meant. He needed to know why he’d married Crowley. It had always felt wrong Dean, but he’d pushed that feeling aside. He’d thought his own jealousy was clouding him, but now he wasn’t so sure. Castiel had always been unhappy, but Dean had ignored it. He’d tried to do his job.

“When Gabriel borrowed money to start his restaurant, he went to Crowley. He had to have everything then and there, top of the line, expensive stuff. Soon he’d borrowed more than he could ever hope to pay back. Crowley knew that. It was his plan.”

Castiel paused for a moment, wrapping his arms around himself. He looked small suddenly, alone and frightened.

“He started putting pressure on Gabriel, started sabotaging things so Gabriel couldn’t make his payments. Then he told us that if Gabriel couldn’t pay, he’d kill him. We sold everything we could, I took extra hours at work, but it wasn’t enough. Crowley knew it wouldn’t be enough. That was when he came to me, then he made me his offer. If I married him, if I became his, he’d let Gabriel live. Dean, I hate Crowley with every fiber of my being, but I love my brother. I had to accept. There wasn’t another option.”

Dean swallowed, his mouth feeling painfully dry. He knew Crowley was clever and unscrupulous, but he hadn’t realized that he’d manipulated Castiel into marrying him. It had never even crossed his mind. Even now, he didn’t want to think about Castiel being married to a man he hated. He didn’t want to face the truth of what that meant in all it’s ugly, gory detail.

“I didn’t know,” he said quietly.

Castiel shrugged. The gesture seemed to say ‘ _would it have changed anything?_ ’, but it would have. Dean wouldn’t have worried about his loyalties. He would have been on Castiel’s side instantly.

“Crowley uses Gabriel to keep me in line. He makes threats, promises about what he’ll do if I don’t conform,” Castiel continued “I contacted the FBI when I realized the only way my family would ever be safe was if Crowley was locked away. Anna was put in charge of my case, but I don’t know anything. Crowley keeps me in the dark. I can’t provide them with any useful information, so they won’t give me what I need - protection for my family.”

Dean took a step towards him, but Castiel backed away. Dean didn’t want him to keep talking. He didn’t want to hear anymore, but Castiel seemed determined to talk now. It was as if a dam had broken and the words spilled out of him, needing to go somewhere, to be heard by someone. Dean could only imagine how stifled Castiel had felt, trapped by Crowley, trying to escape, but finding no help. He carried all these secrets, all these great weights, and he’d had no one to talk to. Now Dean had forced him to open up and Castiel was spilling everything.

“I called Anna today because I can’t take it anymore, Dean. I haven’t...Crowley and I haven’t consummated our marriage. I can’t make myself. I don’t love him. I feel sick just thinking about being with him, but he’s growing tired of my excuses.”

Castiel wrapped his arms around himself. He hugged himself tightly, the gesture instinctive, trying to protect himself from an outside force that he couldn’t defend himself against. Dean ached to hold him, to tell him that everything would be alright.

“That stupid coat he made me buy, when that comes, I know that’s when he’s going to demand we have sex. He wants to see me model the coat and only the coat for him. Do you have any idea what that’s like, living with a deadline like that hanging over you? I can’t wait around for that. I wanted Anna to get me out now, but there isn’t anything she can do, and if I run, Crowley will kill Gabriel.”

Castiel looked lost, the tremendous weight of what what was happening to him leaving him confused, terrified. All of his composure was gone, stripped away, and Dean saw the boy he’d known. That Castiel wasn’t gone. He was still there, still fighting to stay alive under the strain of his adult life. All of that hope, that innocence had survived despite the odds.

Dean couldn’t let Crowley destroy it. He couldn’t let him find out that Castiel had been talking to the FBI, that he’d been planning to escape. Castiel needed to be protected. He might not want the help, especially not from Dean, but he was going to get it.

“Cas,” he said softly, taking another step towards Castiel.

Castiel straightened his back, holding his head up high. He didn’t back away now.

“So now you know everything,” He said. “I suppose you pity me. Everyone pities me. I had all these dreams, all these hopes, I was such an idiot. I never even...god, I never even had sex. I was saving myself for someone I loved and now it’s going to be Crowley.”

“No, it isn’t.” Dean said. “I won’t let it. I’ll do something, Cas.”

He didn’t know what it would be, but he couldn’t let Castiel continue like this. He couldn’t let him hate himself and hurt himself. He couldn’t let him be forced into bed by a man he hated. Dean would do something.

Castiel’s eyes flashed darkly. He didn’t look frightened any more, he looked angry. All of the emotions he had kept at bay, everything he had been suppressing since his marriage to Crowley, it was all bubbling away now, unable to be suppressed any longer. Castiel wasn’t in charge of his emotions, they were in charge of him. They played out, one after another, consuming him and leaving him hollow until the next one filled him.

Watching him, Dean found himself hating Crowley. He had taken someone as beautiful and spirited as Castiel and tried to break him. He had tried to mold him into the man he wanted, and it had damaged Castiel, left him this vulnerable, emotional wreck.

“I don’t need to be rescued,” Castiel hissed. “Especially not by the man who’d put a bullet through my brother’s skull if he was asked.”

He looked like some cornered animal, trapped and with no escape, but with his fear there was determination. Castiel would scratch, claw and bite. He wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Dean stepped forward, trying to pacify him and Castiel leapt. He beat against Dean’s chest, tore at his shirt, tried to kick him, but Dean locked his arms around him and held him tight. He was frightened that Castiel would end up hurting himself. He wasn’t thinking straight and that meant Dean had to be the one in control. He knew restraining Castiel wouldn’t make him feel any safer, but he had to stop Castiel hitting him, had to make him see sense.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said firmly, determined to make Castiel believe him. .

He kept repeating the words over and over, until Castiel stopped struggling.

Dean knew he’d have bruises. His shirt was torn and his jacket was ripped. Castiel might not know how to fight, might not have any training in it, but that didn’t stop him being naturally strong. That ferocity could have floored an unprepared man.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, or to Gabriel,” Dean said.

“You can’t make that promise,” Castiel said, shaking his head. “You take your orders from Crowley.”

Dean was silent for a moment. He did take his orders from Crowley. He couldn’t directly disobey him, not unless he wanted to end up as a corpse, but there were indirect methods he could take to ensure Castiel’s safety.

“I’ll figure something out,” he said.

Castiel wiggled suddenly and for a moment Dean thought he was going to start struggling again, but then he realized Castiel was just moving to make himself more comfortable. He shifted until he was leaning against Dean, his head pressed into Dean’s shoulder.

Dean felt his heart flip. Castiel was so close to him, in his arms and Dean just wanted to hold him to keep him safe from the outside world. In the motel room, he and Cas were the only people who existed and Dean wanted to keep it like that for as long as he could.

“Why?” Castiel asked in a whisper, his voice so low that Dean wasn’t even sure what he was saying at first. “Why are you doing this for me?”

Dean swallowed not sure how to answer that. He knew why he was helping Castiel, because he had fallen for him. He couldn’t let Castiel be crushed, be destroyed by Crowley. He loved who Castiel was and he wanted to save that man. He could tell Castiel that without telling him how he felt. Castiel deserved to know he was a good man.

“Because you’re not meant for this. You’re a good person, Cas, and Crowley tricked you and threatened you and tried to drag you down to his level. It isn’t right. You’re better than this.”

Castiel raised his head.

Slowly, he leaned forward.

Softly, he pressed his lips to Dean’s.

“Thank you,” he breathed.

Dean tightened his hold on him. Castiel was too good. He was too good for Dean, but that didn’t stop Dean from kissing him back.

This was stupid. They both knew the consequences. Dean had a better understanding than most. He knew in vivid detail what would happen to them if Crowley caught them. He knew what danger he was bringing into Castiel’s life, but he couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t want to stop. He’d been dreaming of Castiel for so long, wanting him, and now Castiel was here, kissing him. Dean would have had to be a saint to refuse, and he was no saint.

Castiel words still rang in his head, the knowledge that Castiel was untouched, that he’d been waiting. Dean couldn’t even remember how many people he’d slept with. He didn’t know if Castiel wanted more from him, more than kisses. Part of him didn’t believe that Castiel could possibly want more. He didn’t believe that Castiel would risk everything he had on Dean. Dean wasn’t a good person, he wasn’t worth it.

He broke the kiss, pulling back from Castiel so he could look at his face.

“Do you want this? Do you want me?” he asked, his voice breathless, anxious. “You said you’d never...Cas, do you really want this?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, nodding eagerly. “I was waiting for you, Dean. I want it to be you.”

Dean laughed in disbelief, pressing a quick kiss to Castiel’s mouth. He didn’t know Castiel would want him, but he did.

It only made Dean need him more. He couldn’t let this chance slip away. He knew what trouble it would be if anyone found out, but he couldn't stand having Castiel so close and not having him completely. This was something they both wanted. It was complicated - Castiel was married to Dean’s boss, a boss who would have them both gunned down if he found about this, but that wasn’t even enough to stop Dean.

He didn’t hesitate, picking Castiel up in his arms and carrying him into the motel bedroom.

**

“Is Crowley’s little caged bird singing yet?”

Anna looked up from the paperwork on her desk, frowning . Her boss, Naomi was standing in front of her, radiating brisk efficiency. Naomi wanted everything done by the book and she wanted results. Anna understood why that was important. Failed investigations cost everyone. They put dangerous criminals back on the streets, wasted money and damaged the Bureau’s reputation.

She still felt that Naomi was too rigid.

Her inflexibility was causing Anna problems.

“I’ve gained his trust and if there was anything he could tell me, he would,” Anna said, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Crowley doesn’t tell him anything about his business dealings.”

“Cut him loose then. We don’t need to waste time on useless informants.” Naomi said.

Anna bristled. She knew that was regulations, but she didn’t like it.

They bargained protection for information and currently Castiel wasn’t providing them with anything. She still didn’t like the idea of leaving him at Crowley’s mercy. If Crowley found out that Castiel had contacted her, even if Castiel hadn’t been able to give her anything useful, he would still terminate Castiel. She didn’t want a dead witness, especially not one who’d come to her for help.

“We have the information about his brother’s business…” she said.

Naomi waved her hand irritably.

“One business. And you said his brother wouldn’t even testify. We need more! We need proof of racketeering, extortion, prostitution and people who are willing to testify. I’m not going to arrest Crowley on flimsy evidence that his lawyers will rip to shreds.”

“Maybe if we showed them we were willing to help them first,” Anna said. “If we could move Gabriel Novak into witness protection, I’m sure he’d be willing to testify.”

“That’s not how it works Anna, and you know it. We can’t give something for nothing. They have to prove their willing to work with us first,” Naomi said, shaking her head. “Gabriel Novak is a fool and a coward. I don’t think anything short of Crowley dropping dead would cause him to testify.”

Anna sighed. She looked back down at the paperwork on her desk. She’d tried to make Castiel’s vague speculations and worries into a robust report, but there really wasn’t enough to fill two sides of paper. Anna didn’t like paperwork, that wasn’t why she’s joined the bureau. She wanted to help people, that was her plan and Castiel needed help. He was trapped in a marriage he didn’t want, married to a monster, and the rules and regulations didn’t protect him.

If Anna walked away from him, then what hope did he have left?

“Just give me a little more time,” she said.

Naomi pursed her lips.

“Just a little longer, Anna. We can’t stretch our resources chasing after dead ends forever.”

That was true, of course. Eventually, they would reach a point where there was nothing more Anna could do. Her hands would be tied. She just hoped that Castiel could prove his usefulness to the bureau before that happened.

It disgusted her to think of people based on whether they were useful or not. They were still people, important for that fact and that fact alone. They deserved to be protected. If it was up to Anna, she would have found Castiel and his family a new life miles away, whisked them away to the safety they deserved, but it wasn’t up to her. She had to work within the regulations.

She couldn’t help anyone if she worked outside of them and she hated that.

**

The midday sun was bright, shining through the the tattered remains that passed for curtains. It slid over Castiel, over his naked body, adding light and shadow. Dean who had explored every inch of that body, enjoyed the way the sunlight played over the pale expanse of Castiel’s side. Castiel was too pale, he was too thin. He wasn’t healthy, Dean knew that, but he was still beautiful to Dean.

“You know, I’m glad you’re not having an affair,” he said.

Castiel cocked his head to one side and looked him quizzically.

“But I am,” he said. “I’m having one with you.”

Dean laughed, pulling Castiel close to him to kiss him.

“That isn’t what I meant,” he said fondly. “I mean, I’m glad there isn’t anybody else. “

“There wouldn’t be,” Castiel said. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted this with. Michael used to say I should join the priesthood with him. He said I was made for it since I never looked twice at anyone, but that wasn’t true. I was just struck by you. I never needed to look at anyone else.”

“You’re an idiot,” Dean murmured, pressing a kiss to Castiel’s forehead.

The words made him feel uncomfortably hot, guilt prickling under his skin. He didn’t deserve all of Castiel’s devotion. Castiel didn’t know who he was now, he didn’t know the things Dean had done. Castiel talked about him as if he was in love with him. Dean didn’t know if he could love anyone. He wanted Castiel, needed him, would do anything to have him but that didn’t make it love.

Dean was a wicked man, a cruel man. He didn’t know if he was capable of love. He certainly wasn’t worthy of the kind of love Castiel offered him.

He already knew Castiel should have had a better first time than the one Dean gave him. It didn’t matter how good the sex was, it should never have happened in a sleazy motel room. Dean should have taken him somewhere good, should have made an effort, but he’d let his desire for Castiel overwhelm him.

He’d had to have Castiel then and there.

If he couldn’t control himself well enough to give Castiel the first time he deserved, then how could he even begin to think himself worthy of Castiel?

Castiel yawned, burrowing into Dean’s arms, a blissful smile on his face.

It didn’t seem to bother Castiel that Dean had fucked him on a lumpy, old motel mattress, but it bothered Dean.

“How you feeling?” Dean asked. “I should get you home. I wouldn’t grab a shower here. I think it’d just make you more dirty.”

“It would do if you joined me,” Castiel said, nuzzling against Dean, slow and lazy.

Dean laughed, stroking his fingers down Castiel’s back.

“Shower sex isn’t as easy as they make it look on TV,” he teased. “I don’t want you to break your leg.”

Castiel didn’t say anything. When Dean looked down at him, he saw that Castiel’s eyes were closed, his chest falling and rising in a peaceful rhythm that could only mean he’d fallen asleep.

Dean sighed and settled down for the long term. He knew he shouldn’t let Castiel fall asleep, that he should wake him up and drive him home. Crowley would be up by now. He’d want to know where Castiel was. He might even need Dean for some errand. It was stupid to lie in the uncomfortable motel bed, cuddled together as if the outside world didn’t exist. It was stupid, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to make a move.

For the moment, he wanted to pretend that Crowley, and everything he stood for, had never existed.

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d stayed in bed to cuddle after a fuck, let alone fallen asleep with someone. Most of the time Dean relied on one-night stands, especially after prison. He hadn’t wanted to get close to someone for a long time after he came out. He’d wanted sex, but physical intimacy had been frightening. Prostitutes, the boys who worked in Crowley’s clubs, women he met in bars; Dean hadn’t been picky about who he was taking home as long as they left when he’d finished.

Now it was Cas in his arms, sleepy and sated, and Dean didn’t want to run away. He didn’t want to kick Cas out. He wanted him just like this, relaxed and happy, as much as he wanted him in the throes of passion.

“I’m gonna try and be good for you,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to the dark curls on the top of Castiel’s head. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I’m gonna try and be a better man for you, Cas, the man you deserve.”

He was glad Castiel was asleep, that he couldn’t hear what Dean was saying because Dean never could have said it when he was awake. It was only now, with Castiel slumbering silently, that Dean felt brave enough to tell him what he felt.

He would try his hardest for Castiel. He didn’t think he could ever change who he was and he knew he couldn’t wash away the sins of his past, but he could protect Castiel, so that was what he’d do.

 

**

They couldn’t stay in bed all day. Dean’s phone rang, then rang again and the second time Dean couldn’t ignore it. He tried not to wake Castiel, tried to roll out from under him gently, but the moment he was gone from the bed Castiel started to reach for him, trying to pull him back under the blankets.

It wasn’t Crowley on the phone and Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

It was however one of his underlings with a message for Dean to deliver.

Dean gritted his teeth. He didn’t like carrying messages and acting as a go between. It was a cowardly act, calling him instead of Crowley. Dean knew it meant something had gone wrong knew Dean was in touch with Crowley, knew he lived at Crowley’s home so they used him as a shield.

Dean was just a driver after all, he couldn’t refuse to take phone calls from Crowley’s men. One day, it could be important.

He motioned for Castiel to keep quiet and listened to the confused, panicky explanation from the man on the other end of the line.

“Right, yeah,” he muttered. “I’ll tell him.”

He disconnected the call and sighed, running a hand through his hair.

It had been nice to pretend he and Castiel were alone in the world, but he’d known it couldn’t last.

“We have to get back. That was one of Crowley’s guys. He fucked up and now Crowley’s gonna have to do some damage control. It shouldn’t be too bad, but he lost us a shipment that was supposed to come in tonight.”

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Dean regretted them. Castiel seemed to deflated, reminded that Dean was a criminal, that he was tied up in Crowley’s operations. Dean hadn’t been the only one who’d wanted to ignore the outside world

Castiel nodded slowly.

“Will you take me to church later?” he asked.

The question seemed to come out of nowhere. Dean glanced at Castiel, who looked small and sad, sitting naked on the edge of the bed with the blanket pulled over his lap. He picked at a loose thread, wrapping it around his finger and tugging.

Dean felt as if someone had stabbed him in the gut. He was sure, looking at Castiel now, that Castiel regretted what they’d done. He’d been swept away in the moment, in the memory he had of Dean, but now he’d realized who Dean really was and he hated what they’d done together. That was the only explanation Dean had, the first one he jumped to.

Castiel regretted Dean. He needed to go to church to pray away the sin of having Dean touch him.

Dean swallowed, turning away from Castiel, conscious of his own nudity and hating it.

“Sure, I can take you,” he said, grabbing for his boxers, scrabbling to get dressed now he knew Castiel was unhappy. Somehow, Dean doubted seeing his naked body was doing anything to make Castiel feel better. It would just be a reminder of what they’d done.

Behind him, he heard the bed creak as Castiel got up. They dressed in silence, facing away from each other. Dean found his gun and re-holstered it, wishing he wasn’t carrying it. It wouldn’t change anything, he’d still be working for Crowley, but it would make him feel like less a of a threat. He imagined that was what Castiel saw him as, a thug who could destroy him if he wanted. Dean knew more about Castiel now than anyone else did. He knew him intimately, knew his secrets.

 

 

It gave him power over Castiel, but it wasn’t power Dean was planning to use.

He glanced over his shoulder, checking quickly that Castiel was dressed.

He couldn’t even believe that a few minutes ago Castiel had been lying naked in his arms. It had to have been a dream. It couldn’t have been real, not with how Castiel looked now. He was wrapped up tight, his jacket pulled around himself, his whole body hunched over. Everything about him radiated his desire to be as small and insignificant as possible, to disappear. Dean hated seeing him like that, and he hated it even more knowing that he was the one who’d made Castiel feel that way.

**

Dean was sure Crowley would take one look at him and know what had happened with Castiel.

He was sure he smelled of sex, and not only that, but also of Castiel. Every time he breathed in, Dean got a whiff of Castiel’s scent mixed with his own. He imagined that his guilt must be written across his face, obvious to anyone who looked at him.

It had to be obvious to Crowley. He was married to Castiel after all. He already suspected Castiel was cheating on him. The man would size Dean up, realize he’d had sex and that he’d been with Castiel that morning, and put two and two together. All that would remain then would be for Crowley to shoot him.

Dean delivered the message and waited.

He saw Crowley’s composure falter for a second, but it was only momentary slip.

“I see,” Crowley murmured. “I think I’ll have to make a few phone calls and get this mess cleared up.”

He dismissed Dean with a wave of the hand. Dean turned slowly, waiting for Crowley to call him back. As he walked across the length of the room, seconds seemed to stretch into eternity. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? Dean wasn’t just going to be allowed to walk out of here. Crowley couldn’t be unaware of what Dean had done, could he? Dean had seen Crowley play with people too many times to believe that it was just going to be that easy.

He gripped the door handle hard, wondering if Crowley was going to avoid small talk and simply shoot him in the back. He cast one last, fearful glance over his shoulder, but Crowley had his back to him. He was engrossed in a little black address book, flipping through the pages. Dean recognized that book instantly.

If Castiel was really serious about trading information for his freedom, then he should have tried to get his hands on that book. It contained all the details of Crowley’s corrupt contacts in the police department and local judiciary. That would be a worth the witness protection Castiel craved.

Dean paused, an image coming unbidden into his mind, an image of him pulling out his gun and shooting Crowley now. Crowley would have no idea what was happening, no time to fight back. Dean could kill him, take that book and all of Castiel’s problems would be over.

Dean’s problems, however, would just be starting.

He wasn’t going to start a gang war over Castiel. He wasn’t an idiot. If he gunned down Crowley, there’d be five guys waiting to gun him down and step into the power vacuum. Dean didn’t want to die and he didn’t want to end up back in prison. He wanted to keep living for as long as he could.

He opened the door and stepped out quickly, shutting it soundly behind him.

Even the sound of his footsteps as he headed to the car seemed too loud.

What was he thinking? Dean had promised loyalty, had promised to repay the interest that had been shown to him. Crowley hadn’t needed to take Dean in, he hadn’t needed to give him a job. He had done it on the understanding that Dean would owe him his loyalty. Dean had been loyal until Castiel, and now his thoughts were all over the place.

Castiel obviously regretted what had happened. He wanted Dean to take him to church. He hadn’t even been able to look at Dean after what they’d done.

Dean was having fantasies about killing the man who’d taken him in and provided for his future, and all because of Castiel. Castiel, who had always been too good for him, who would never be his or want to be his. What they’d done had been a terrible mistake as far as Castiel was concerned.

Dean had to focus on that, had to remember that it was a mistake. Castiel didn’t want Dean to protect him. He didn’t want Dean to tear down Crowley’s empire for him. Castiel wanted to go to church and pray away the sin of what they’d done together.

Castiel was still sitting in the car where Dean had left him, eyes closed and head tipped back. He could have been asleep or maybe only thinking. Dean swallowed, stopping just short of the car so he could look at him. Castiel was caught off guard in a private moment. He wasn’t trying to look beautiful, but he was. His face was relaxed,all the stresses and worries wiped away. He could have been carved in marble, as perfect and not-quite-real as any statute Dean had ever seen.

Dean’s heart constricted painfully. He would never be able to view what had happened between them as a mistake. He could ignore it, if that was what Castiel wanted, he could pretend it had never happened when Castiel was around, but he would never be able to forget. For one brief moment, Dean had had everything he wanted. He’d been changed by that. Even though Castiel was pulling away from him, leaving him just like everyone else did, Dean still wanted him.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to get Castiel out from under his skin.

Dean knew he couldn’t stand there watching Castiel all day. He tapped lightly on the car window, startling Castiel. Dean opened the door, forcing himself to smile, to try and look as normal as possible.

“Let’s get you to church,” he said.

**

It had been years since Dean had been in a church. The last time was his father’s funeral, just before Sam took off for the other side of the country. It wasn’t a memory Dean liked to relive. He avoided churches as much as he could. He didn’t believe in God or any other higher power, and he certainly didn’t believe in Heaven. He’d seen too many people die with fear in their eyes to believe they were going to a better place.

He felt uncomfortable, sitting nervously in one of the pews, waiting for Castiel to finish his confession. Castiel had always believed. Dean had thought Castiel went to church because his family made him go to church, but now he understood that Castiel was devout. It mattered to him. He wasn’t just paying lip service to the idea.

In a way, that made Dean feel worse about what they’d done. If Castiel didn’t care, if he didn’t consider it a sin, then Dean wouldn’t feel as if he’d defiled him. He’d put his dirty hands on Castiel and dragged him down. It was Dean’s fault, all of it. Castiel shouldn’t have to confess to Dean’s sins.

Dean slumped lower in the pew, covering his face with his hands. It was such a mess. He should have been more in control, should have known not to return Castiel’s kiss in the motel room. He’d just discovered Castiel’s secret, that he was talking to the FBI, and then Castiel had been in his arms. Dean hadn’t been thinking. He’d been acting on impulse, acting on his own desires. Castiel had been protecting himself, and Dean had been too much of an idiot to see it. Everything Castiel had said, it had all been window dressing to make Dean fall for him. As soon as he’d had the chance, he’d had to come to church and get the religious equivalent of a hot shower to scrub Dean off him.

Dean rubbed at his face, trying to stop thinking about Castiel. It was hard. Everything revolved around him.

The door to the confessional opened and Dean sat up straight.

Castiel stepped out, running a hand through his messy hair. He caught sight of Dean and smiled. It was such a happy smile, completely unforced, that it took Dean’s breath away.

He stood up slowly and made his way to the end of the pew. Castiel met him there, his smile still strong. He took Dean’s hand in his own, holding on to it tightly. Dean didn't know what was going on. He didn’t understand it. Castiel had been so distant since the motel, but now he was here, holding Dean’s hand as if everything was fine again. It didn’t make sense.

“Are you ready to go?” Castiel asked.

“Wait,” Dean said, tugging on Castiel’s hand to stop him. “I don’t understand. You had to come to confession, you wouldn’t look at me back in the motel room, couldn’t wait to get your clothes on and now everything’s okay again? Just what’s going on with you, Cas.”

Castiel stared at him.

“Dean…”

“Was it a lie?” Dean asked hopelessly.

He didn’t want know, but he had to ask. The thought that Castiel was forcing himself to do this, that he saw Dean as the less bad option when compared to Crowley, wouldn’t go away. Dean couldn’t let Castiel do that to himself. He couldn’t go on with a lie.

Castiel let go of his hand and Dean felt his heart drop.

Then Castiel reached out, cupping his face gently in both hands, forcing Dean to look at him.

“No,” Castiel said firmly. “No, it wasn’t a lie. Dean, I don’t expect you to understand but when I married, I made a vow to God. I broke that vow to be with you. I’d break it a hundred times to be with you, but I still care that I broke it. When you took that phone call, it made me remember that I’m not a free man. I want to be with you, Dean, but don’t ask me not to feel guilty about the fact that this is an affair.”

“You hate your husband,” Dean mumbled, not ready to believe Castiel.

“I still married him. God doesn’t care that I don’t love Crowley. He cares about the vows I made,” Castiel said.

Dean drew in a deep breath. He looked at Castiel, searching for the truth and he saw it in Castiel’s eyes. It didn’t make sense to him, but he didn’t believe. If this helped Castiel, if this meant he could keep seeing Dean, then Dean didn’t care if it made sense or not. Whatever Castiel need to ease his conscience, it was all good in Dean’s book.

If confessing to his affair meant Castiel could continue it, Dean wouldn’t stop him.

“You’re fucked up, Cas,” he said, chuckling.

“Don’t swear, we’re in church,” Castiel said, leaning in to kiss Dean softly and shut him up.

Dean wrapped his arms tightly around him, holding him as close as he could. He knew now that he was in over his head. He was completely crazy when it came to Castiel. This wasn’t a good thing. Dean didn’t know his limits, didn’t know how to love someone. He just knew that he couldn’t live without Castiel now.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean didn’t know how he managed to keep calm. When he drove Crowley to his appointments, he was sure he could feel the man’s eyes boring a hole into the back of his skull. He felt as if Crowley could see all his weaknesses, could sense every transgression. If he could, Crowley hadn’t said anything, but that didn’t stop Dean worrying. He was certain every night when he got in the car, it would be his last night. He was certain Crowley was only a few minutes away from directing him to take a turning that would lead to his own death. 

Tonight though, it seemed unlikely. Tonight, Crowley had directed him to drive to ‘ _Debauchery_ ’ the lap-dancing club he owned. That was too public and too obviously linked to Crowley to be the place for a hit. Crowley probably just wanted to meet one of the boy’s he kept on the side. 

It made Dean’s blood boil but he couldn’t say anything. If he was married to Castiel, he wouldn’t be looking for action elsewhere, but then again, he wasn’t Crowley. He got to have Castiel in his bed whenever they could sneak a moment alone together and it was pure Heaven every time. Castiel was so excited, innocent but eager and Dean loved being the one to show him just how good sex could be. 

If Crowley did ever figure out what was going on and order a hit on Dean, Dean hoped he lived long enough to rub it in Crowley’s face. He’d use his last breath to tell the man how responsive Castiel was, how he’d begged for Dean to fuck him over and over again. How Dean had got there before Crowley. 

Dean was smiling as he pulled up in front of the club. 

He got out, opening the door for Crowley and waited for his instructions. Even if he hated Crowley, Dean still felt the sting of loyalty. _You do what you’re told_ , his father had always said to him, _and be grateful_. The man had been dead for years and Dean still remembered his words. Crowley hadn’t needed Dean. Dean was the one who’d needed him, who’d needed the job he was offering. He ought to be grateful, but now Castiel was in the equation and that muddled the answer for Dean.

“Dean,” Crowley said, calling Dean’s attention back to the moment. “I want you to come with me. I think you deserve a bonus for all your hard work recently.”

Dean gripped the door handled a little harder. A few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated. If Crowley was paying, Dean would have enjoyed every moment of it. He would have ordered an imported beer and got himself a lap dance, but things were different now. He had Castiel. The only person he wanted to see take his clothes off Cas. The only person he wanted gyrating half-naked in his lap was Cas. It wasn’t that simple though. He couldn’t turn down the offer without questions. 

Crowley would be suspicious. Dean had enjoyed one night stands, but monogamy had always eluded him until now. Castiel was different, he was special. Dean wasn’t taking such a huge risk with him just to dick around on him behind his back. If he didn’t accept the offer, however, it was going to seem strange. 

“Dean?” Crowley said again, looking at him expectantly. 

“Huh? yeah, yeah, I want to go,” Dean said, fumbling with the car keys. 

He locked the door, not missing the look Crowley gave him. Crowley knew something was wrong. Dean had been too slow to answer, too distant. He wasn’t behaving like himself. Dean cursed himself silently. He would have to work harder to appear his normal self if he didn’t want to arouse Crowley’s suspicions. 

Dean followed Crowley into the club. The lights were kept low, the focus of them of the stage were right now an attractive young man was half naked and swinging around a pole. The music pounded, a steady beat that the boy on stage could dance to. Whenever Dean had been to one of these clubs before, he grabbed himself a seat at the front of the stage, but being out with Crowley was different. 

The manager appeared at their side almost instantly. Dean recognized him from the times he’d come to the club to pick up Crowley’s companions. The man had always seemed oily to Dean, far too willing to turn over his dancers. His name was Balthazar, if Dean remembered correctly.

He directed them into a private room at the back of the club and promised to return with champagne and a few of his best boys to entertain them. Once upon a time, Dean would have loved this, but now he felt uncomfortable, sliding down low in one of the chairs. He wanted to be back in the car. He wanted to be away from the pounding music, away from Crowley. Everything felt tainted. It was something he’d never noticed before, but now Dean was aware of it and he wanted to scrub himself clean. 

Crowley settled himself down across from him. He smiled fondly at Dean. 

“You know Dean, I have a soft spot for you. You could move up in the organisation, but I like having you close by. You’re the only one I trust with Castiel.”

Dean’s gut twisted painfully. Unbidden, the memory of Castiel moaning beneath him rose in his mind. Yes, Crowley could trust him. He could trust Dean to fuck Castiel until he reduced him to wordless moans. 

Dean sat still, replaying the scene in his head. 

Crowley didn’t seem phased by his silence because he continued “I wonder if you’ve been able to pursue that little task I asked you about? It has been playing on my mind, wondering if Castiel has been unfaithful.” 

Dean forced himself to look at Crowley. 

The man had no idea, he reminded himself. Crowley had suspected Castiel long before Castiel had ever broken his vows. He didn’t know that Dean was the one Castiel wanted, that Dean was the only one Castiel had ever wanted. Crowley’s jealousy and suspicions had created the perfect storm, pushing Dean and Castiel together. If it wasn’t for him, Dean would never have followed Castiel to the motel. He would never have discovered what Castiel was really up to and their affair wouldn’t have been sparked. 

Crowley didn’t know about any of that. He didn’t know that Dean was crazy about Castiel. 

Crowley would believe whatever Dean said. He trusted Dean and his loyalty. 

“Castiel isn’t happy, but he isn’t having an affair,” Dean said, the words coming easily to him. It didn’t even feel like a lie. “Sometimes he sneaks off to see that brother of his, but that’s all.” 

Crowley relaxed visibly.

“I can deal with Gabriel,” he said. “He’s a coward. If I make it obvious to him that I don’t like his influence on Castiel, he’ll choose his own skin over his brother. That’s one of the pleasures of dealing with Gabriel. He’s easy to manipulate.” 

Dean bit the inside of his cheek. Crowley hadn’t even asked about why Castiel was unhappy. He was too busy planning to cut Castiel off completely from him family, even from the family Castiel had gambled his freedom away to rescue. 

Dean wished he hadn’t said anything. He knew he had to give Crowley an answer, had to offer him some secret from Castiel’s life to prove his worth, but he hadn’t expected Crowley to view Gabriel as a threat. Dean had met the guy. Gabriel was completely nonthreatening. Banning Castiel from seeing him or pressuring Gabriel into turning him away would only make Castiel miserable. 

He could never love someone who kept him trapped like that. Dean had begun to doubt that Crowley wanted Castiel to love him. Dean was pretty sure Crowley wanted Castiel broken and bowed, utterly dependent on him, but not in love with him. Crowley didn’t know what love was. 

Crowley sat back in his seat, smiling widely. 

“I want you to enjoy tonight, Dean. Think of it as a reward for all your good work.”

Dean nodded. He didn’t trust himself to say anything. If he opened his mouth, he knew he’d say something stupid. Crowley didn’t want his opinion. 

The door to the private room flew open then and Balthazar waltzed in, carrying an ice bucket. Behind him came two nearly naked young men - a blonde and a brunette - both of whom crowded around Crowley’s chair, laughing and flirting. 

Dean glanced at them, a superficial glance that registered just how much skin was on show, then looked away. He was glad for they weren’t focused on him. He didn’t want them to pay attention to him. He wanted to be ignored. He sunk down lower in his seat and tried to make himself disappear into the leather. 

Balthazar placed the ice bucket between them.

“I’ll be back with the champagne in a minute. Adam and Inias are yours for the evening.” 

Dean’s head snapped up. He looked straight at the blonde boy who was pouting at Crowley, pulling playfully at his tie. 

“Fuck,” he whispered. 

Crowley noticed his sudden interest, Dean wasn’t exactly being subtle about, and smirked, clearly misunderstanding why Dean’s attention was fixed on that young man. 

He grabbed hold of Adam’s chin, turning his head so the boy could see Dean. 

“I think my associate would like it if you paid some attention to him.”

Adam’s eyes widened and Dean’s stomach lurched unpleasantly.

“Adam is my brother,” he said, forcing down the wave of nausea that assaulted him.

He wasn’t going to let this misunderstanding go on for any longer that it had to. He wanted Crowley to stop touching Adam, to realize that this was a mistake. Dean’s loyalty was already sorely tested, hanging by a thread and memories of what his dad had always said to him, but even his dad would have drawn the line at this. 

Cowley didn’t let go of Adam. 

He tugged Adam back to face him, studying him closely.

“I must say, he’s much prettier than you, Dean. I see a family resemblance, but your brother inherited all the good looks.” 

Dean jumped up, unable to hold himself back. There was only so much he could tolerate and seeing Crowley pawing at his little brother, seeing Adam here of all places, was too much. He was acting on instinct now and his instinct told him he needed to protect Adam. 

Crowley laughed, dropping his hand and releasing Adam.

“Dean, it’s too easy to make you angry. I hope you know that I wouldn’t sully our friendship simply because you have a pretty brother.” 

“Half-brother,” Adam muttered, rubbing at his jaw. 

He didn’t look confident or flirtatious anymore. He looked angry, humiliated, and Dean knew Adam didn’t have a good track record when it came to holding his tongue, especially not when he was hurt. 

Crowley found everything humorous now, but if Adam turned his sharp tongue on him, he might not find it so funny. Adam’s hurt pride would heal, but Crowley was capable of giving him bruises that would hurt for a lot longer. 

Dean grabbed hold of Adam’s arm, glaring at his little brother in a way he hoped would scare Adam into shutting up for a moment. Dean still wanted to protect him, but his thoughts had turned to getting Adam out of there as soon as possible, to make sure Adam didn’t say anything that would get him in trouble in the future. 

He dragged Adam out of the private room, away from Crowley whose laughter echoed after them. 

The music was too loud in the club for Dean to hear himself think. He tightened his hold on Adam and pulled him towards the exit, forcing him out into the cool night air. 

Adam shivered as the cold night air hit him, and for a moment Dean thought about giving him his jacket, but he wasn’t ready to let go of Adam just yet. He didn’t want Adam slipping back into the club and disappearing into the backrooms. Dean could probably follow him, the club security seemed pretty lax, but he didn’t want to risk it. 

He pulled Adam into an alleyway and finally released his little brother’s arm, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to Adam. 

“What where you doing?” he hissed.

Adam pulled on the jacket, tugging it tightly around him and glared at Dean.

“I was trying to get better tips. Crowley is generous and I like the money. I didn’t know you’d be there.”

“You were going to get your legs broken,” Dean muttered. 

“Only when you got involved. Before that, I was doing fine,” Adam said, tossing his head angrily. 

“When did you start working here?” Dean asked, waving his hand in the direction of the club. “I thought you were working in Burger King.”

Adam snorted. “Right, because I can pay for college by flipping burgers. You have no idea how much money I make dancing here. It’s not like I have a trust fund to dip into.” 

Dean drew in a deep breath. He couldn’t really lecture Adam about what he was doing. They were brothers, but as Adam always reminded him they were half-brothers. 

Adam was the result of a fling, and he hadn’t even been on Dean’s radar until Sam moved across the country to go to college. In a moment of drunken melancholy, John Winchester had let it slip that he had another son. Dean had gone straight round to Adam’s mom’s house and tried to play happy families. 

Adam had seen right through him. He’d always known he was a replacement, that John and Dean tried to buy his love because they were guilty about Sam leaving. Dean had only see him a few times since he got out of prison, and one of those times had been because he wanted burgers for free. 

It shouldn’t surprise Dean that he didn’t know Adam was working as a lapdancer now, but it did. He wanted Adam to trust him, wanted them to have a family relationship, but there was probably too much bad blood between them for that to be possible now. 

He was still worried about Adam though. 

“Did he...Crowley, did he touch you?” he asked. “I don’t mean now, I mean...fuck, I know some of the guys you’re working with turn tricks on the side. Did he make you do that?” 

Adam shook his head.

“I’m not his type, I don’t have dark hair and I don’t like to be called kitten.” 

Dean didn’t know weather to be happy that Crowley had kept his hands to himself where Adam was concerned, or angry that he was out here in the club, trawling for Castiel substitutes. He focused on being happy that Adam wasn’t one of Crowley’s bits on the side. 

“Do you turn tricks?” he asked, trying not to sound judgmental. 

He wanted Adam to tell him the truth. He wouldn’t be angry with him, just with the guy’s who took advantage of him. 

“No, Dean, “ Adam said with a huff of annoyance. “I’m strictly legitimate. I dance and anyone I go home with, I go home with because I want to. I’m not saying the extra money wouldn’t be great, but mom would kill me if she ever found out.” 

Dean could have laughed. He nearly did. Adam was standing there in thigh high boots and hot pants, looking like some pervert’s walking wet dream and he was still scared about what his mom would say. Dean doubted Kate knew about the dancing. She would never have approved of it, but she’d probably have accepted it a bit better than prostitution. 

Dean felt his anger melt away. He didn’t like that Adam was dancing, especially not in one of the clubs that Crowley controlled, but meeting Adam here tonight had been fortuitous. It meant that Dean was outside now, talking to his little brother, rather than inside, gritting his teeth through a lap dance he didn’t want. 

“Can I take you home?” he asked. 

He didn’t want to go back inside and he didn’t want Adam going back either. He couldn’t stop Adam from dancing. It was his life and his choice, as Adam would no doubt tell him, but at least tonight Dean hoped Adam would let him drive him home, let him be the big brother he wanted to be.

Adam hesitated, glancing back towards the club.

“I don’t know. I need to work and aren’t you running with Crowley?”

“He’ll call me when he needs me and I’ve got a wallet full of hundreds that you can have,” Dean said.

It was more money than he wanted to hand out at any one time, but he’d give it to Adam if it would get him out of the club while Crowley was there. Dean couldn’t rescue Castiel so easily, but he could drive Adam home tonight and make sure that he was safe for a little while. 

Adam ran a hand through his hair, considering Dean’s offer. After a moment, he smiled. 

“Yeah, okay. I might even make you a cup of coffee if you can keep from sneering at my apartment.” 

“I live above a garage, I’m sure you’re doing better than me,” Dean said. 

“You haven’t seen it yet,” Adam said.

For a moment, Dean felt something warm in his chest. Adam wasn’t Sam. He could never be Sam. Sam was miles away, leading a happy life, removed from the dangerous world he’d been born into. Adam was here. He was the brother Dean could reach and, when Dean wasn’t missing Sam, he realized just how much he liked Adam. 

He looped his arm around Adam’s shoulder, grinning at him, and lead him to the car. Crowley would be busy for the rest for the night. Dean had his cellphone on him, and he’d pick up if Crowley called, but for the moment, he wasn’t worrying about his boss. 

Crowley had told him to enjoy the night so Dean was going to. It might not have been what Crowley had planned, but Dean was going to spend the night with family. He was going to make up for lost time. 

**

The plate Gabriel put down in front of him looked delicious; a perfect lasagna with thick layers of pasta and meat sauce, all topped with cheese and baked in the oven. It smelt amazing and Castiel didn’t need an invitation to tuck in. He picked up his fork and dived straight in. 

Gabriel raised an eyebrow as he sunk down into the chair across from Castiel.

“Since when have you liked my lasagna? You normally pick at it, leave half on the plate and just drink my coffee,” he said. 

Castiel swallowed his mouthful.

“I’ve been hungry recently,” he said. 

Ever since he’d started sleeping with Dean, in fact, his appetite had returned. He was putting on weight and he felt healthier, happier. He wasn’t trying to drink himself to death or starve himself anymore. He didn’t want to. He had Dean and that made things better. Cowley was still there, but he was busy most of the time. He didn’t concern himself with Castiel and what he did, which was just what Castiel wanted.

Gabriel hummed softly.

“If it was anyone else but you, Cassie, I’d say you were in love. You’re eating more, you got some color in your cheeks, you’re actually smiling. Next thing you’ll be singing to yourself and telling me how beautiful the sun rise was this morning.”

Castiel felt his cheeks growing red. The sunrise had been beautiful that morning. He’d thrown his curtains wide and looked out, smiling because he could see the garage from his bedroom window. Dean had still been asleep, his curtains tightly dawn, but that hadn’t mattered. Castiel had still known he was there and that had warmed his heart. 

Gabriel stared at him, a look of horror crossing his face.

“Oh god, Castiel. No! Who is it? Not that husband of yours? That’s not love, Castiel, that’s Stockholm syndrome. He’s a monster, he’s…”

“No, no,” Castiel interrupted. “It’s not Crowley. I couldn’t...I could never love him, Gabriel.”

Gabriel relaxed a little, sinking back into his chair and frowning. 

“So who’s stupid enough to put the moves on a mob boss’s boytoy then? I’m assuming this is a real relationship and not your crush on Dean Winchester again.” 

Castiel looked back down at his plate, avoiding Gabriel’s eye. He stabbed his fork into the lasagna, hungrily shoveling it into his mouth so he didn’t have to talk to Gabriel. Trust Gabriel to hit the bullseye first try. Gabriel had always teased him about his crush on Dean when they’d been children. He knew better than anyone else how enthralled Castiel had been.

Gabriel drew in a sharp breath. 

“Dean? Really? That’s almost as bad as Crowley.”

Castiel dropped his fork. It clattered on his plate as he glared at his brother.

“You don’t know anything about Dean. Don’t you ever say something like that again.” 

“He works for Crowley. Earth to Castiel, this might not be the smartest idea you’ve ever had! He’s a thug, a creep!”” 

“Gabriel, you don’t know him!” Castiel said. 

Gabriel had never liked Dean. No one in Castiel’s family had. The Novaks might have been poor, but they weren’t criminals. The Winchesters were. It was an important distinction, one they made sure to point out to Castiel constantly. Even now, Castiel could see Gabriel gearing up to tell him how stupid he was.

“He was trouble when he was a kid and when he grew up, he joined the mob and got into even more trouble. His dad was trouble and it was a blessing the day he died. The only one of that family who was ever worth anything was Sam and he took off as soon as he could. If Dean’s own brother didn’t want to be around him, what does that tell you?” 

“That isn’t....That isn’t fair!” Castiel protested. “Sam left because of their father, not because of Dean.”

“Yeah? Well, John Winchester’s been dead for years and Sam’s never come back.”

Gabriel nodded his head firmly, as if he’d just delivered the definitive argument. Castiel could feel himself losing the last grip he had on his calm. 

“Do you think Dean would want Sam mixed up in this? Do you think he’d want to drag his little brother into his problems? He’s not like that! He’s not like you!” he said, his voice rising as he went on. 

The words were out before he could think about them. He stared at Gabriel, his mouth hanging open in horror. He had never meant to say that to Gabriel. He never meant to blame his brother for what happened. 

Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest, looking away defensively.

“You didn’t have to step in, I never asked you to,” he said stiffly.

“Of course I had to,” Castiel said softly. “You’re my brother. I couldn’t let you die, not when I could do something.” 

“But now you hate me!” Gabriel said, his voice wobbling. 

Castiel knew what that meant. It meant that Gabriel was close to tears. His brother had never learned to hide his emotions. He wore them openly, making him an easy target. It broke Castiel’s heart to hear him so vulnerable. He was out of his seat in an instant, kneeling at Gabriel’s side. 

“No, no, I don’t,” he murmured, stroking Gabriel’s arm reassuringly. “I love you.” 

“Promise?” Gabriel mumbled.

“Promise,” Castiel said.

Gabriel looked at him cautiously. Castiel smile at him, hoping that he looked reassuring and not faintly frightening. Gabriel had often told him that his smile was strange. 

Gabriel took a deep breath and smiled back at him. 

“So, you and Dean then?” he asked. 

“Me and Dean,” Castiel agreed. 

“But why?” 

“Do you know what a killing jar is?” Castiel asked. Gabriel looked at him blankly. “It’s a device used to kill butterflies and moths quickly. You trap them in the jar, seal it tight and poison them. That’s how I feel when I’m with Crowley, I feel like I’m trapped and being poisoned slowly. I’m not a person to him, I’m a beautiful specimen that he’s collected. I’m there for display. When I’m with Dean, I feel alive.”

Gabriel nodded, sniffing. “Well, just make sure you stay that way. Alive, I mean. You might not be if Crowley finds out.”

“I know,” Castiel said with a heavy sigh. “I just...this is Dean. I love him, Gabriel.”

“So this is really happening? You’re not a virgin anymore?” 

Castiel frowned a little. He didn’t want to discuss his sex life with his brother, but apparently Gabriel felt no reticence in asking. 

“I don’t know why sex is so important to you, but yes, I’m not a virgin anymore,” he said. 

“Dean can’t be that good at it if you don’t think sex is important,” Gabriel said. He wiggled his eyebrows and Castiel found himself laughing.

“You couldn’t be more wrong,” he said. 

“No details, please! My delicate ears,” Gabriel gasped, covering his ears with his hands. 

It was impossible to believe that this was the same man who had, a few moments ago, slumped in his chair, convinced that Castiel hated him. Now he was performing, making Castiel laugh and treating everything as a joke. This was the brother Castiel knew, the one he was comfortable with. He didn’t want to delve too deeply into their past, into any resentment he might feel because of Gabriel’s choice and where they had led him. 

Castiel had been free to make his own choices and he had chosen to save his silly clown of a big brother. 

If he was given the chance again, it was the choice he would always make. 

**

Dean was exhausted.

He had slept, but it had been in the front seat of the car and only for a few hours. His back hurt, his legs had cramped and he just wanted to crawl into bed and stay there for about a year.

That wasn’t possible though, so he’d settle for a strong cup of Gabriel’s imported Italian coffee to keep him up. 

Dean went around the side, heading through the kitchen. Meg was absent today. Dean didn’t know if her shift started later or if she was simply taking advantage of Castiel’s visit to play hooky. 

Dean paused at the door to the dining room, peering through the little window. He knew he shouldn't spy, but the sight he saw through the window made him smile. Castiel looked so happy and relaxed, sitting across from Gabriel and laughing. It was such a glorious sight. Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Castiel actually laugh. He’d seen him mirthless, laughing because the despair of the situation forced him to, and he’d seen Castiel’s quiet laughter at a joke shared between just the two of them, but he hadn’t seen him so completely unguarded and happy. 

Gabriel had always been a clown. Dean remembered that. He remembered Gabriel getting out of trouble because he could tell such entertaining, ridiculous stories. It was just a shame that Gabriel couldn’t work that peculiar talent on Crowley.

Dean felt a stab of guilt at the thought of Crowley. He’d be around soon, tightening the screws and reminding Gabriel that he didn’t want Castiel visiting. Dean shouldn’t have said anything about Gabriel, he should have lied. Crowley knew that Castiel was sneaking around, that he was somewhere he shouldn’t be, but Dean should have come up with another story.

He gave the door a gentle push and stepped out. Both Gabriel and Castiel gave a start of surprise. Castiel relaxed in a moment, smiling at Dean, but Gabriel just glared at him. 

“Cas, uh, it’s time to go,” Dean said.

He wondered if Crowley had already sent someone round to tell Gabriel to back off. It would explain why Gabriel was glaring at him right now. 

Castiel nodded, pushing his seat back. Dean noticed the empty plate in front of him. He’d been worrying about how much Castiel ate. When he held him, he could feel Castiel’s bones. That wasn’t right. He wanted Castiel to be strong and healthy. If the empty plate was anything to go by, Castiel’s appetite was returning. That could only be for the good. 

Gabriel got up too at the same time as Castiel. For a moment, Dean though it was to give his little brother a goodbye hug, but Gabriel marched around the table, hands on hips and stood in front of Dean, looking about as threatening as one of those small, yappy little dogs Dean disliked so much. 

“I don’t care who you’re working for, if you hurt Cas, I’ll take out a hit on you!” 

“I told him about us,” Castiel supplied, unnecessarily. 

“Yeah, I gathered that,” Dean said. He glared down at Gabriel. “Good luck getting anyone to take that contract. Everyone knows you can’t pay up. You’d be using Crowley’s money to murder one of his guys and no one with half a brain wants to be mixed up in that.”

Dean paused for a moment, glancing at Castiel. He felt his heart beat quicken. 

“And I’m never gonna hurt Cas. I‘m gonna protect him.” 

“I don’t think you need to get your dick wet to do that, do you?” Gabriel asked, squaring up to Dean like he was significantly shorter than him and Dean couldn’t snap him in two if he wanted to. 

“Gabriel!” Castiel said sharply. 

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Gabriel said, jabbing Dean in the chest. 

Dean opened his mouth to say he wouldn’t, then remembered that he already had.

“Crowley might come over,” he said dully. “He wanted to know what Cas was doing, where he was going. He thought Cas was sleeping around.” 

“And so you told him about Cas coming here? You’re a piece of work, Winchester.” 

“Gabriel,” Castiel said again. “It might be better...I don’t like it, but it’s better if Crowley thinks I’ve just been visiting you. He’ll be angry, but he won’t hurt you. He knows you’re leverage.”

Gabriel snorted angrily.

“And until he calms down and forgets about this, I can’t see you, right?” 

Castiel nodded sadly. “It won’t be for too long. I won’t let it be.”

Gabriel looked uncomfortable. He shifted from foot to foot, obviously weighing something in his mind, then crossed the room and throw his arms about Castiel, hugging him tightly.

“Just let me know that you’re okay. You can do that, right?”

“I can do that,” Castiel promised, rubbing Gabriel’s back in calm, soothing circles as Gabriel clung to him. 

Dean felt like more of a jerk than ever. He’d told Castiel that he would protect him, and that he’d protect Gabriel, and instead he’d only succeeded in getting them separated. His intentions were good, but he didn’t know how to stop things from falling apart. Destruction had always been what he was good at.

**

Dean waited until he drew into the garage to say anything. He pulled the keys from the ignition, the rumble of the engine dying away, then he tuned to Castiel. 

“I’m sorry about Gabriel.”

“It’s better this way,” Castiel said. “It’s safer for Gabriel if I don’t visit him and it’s better for us if Crowley thinks I’ve simply been sneaking off to see my brother.” 

“I’m still sorry,” Dean said firmly. 

He knew how important Gabriel was to Castiel. Castiel would never have had anything to do with Crowley if Gabriel’s life hadn’t been involved. Castiel might be able to see a bigger picture, might be able to accept that this was safer for Gabriel in the long run, but Dean knew it had to be hurting him. 

It was Dean’s fault that Castiel couldn’t see Gabriel for a while. Dean had promised he’d protect both of them, but his first attempt had failed badly. 

Castiel looked at him fondly. He leant across the seat to press a quick kiss to Dean’s lips. 

“I know what you’re thinking, Dean. Stop it, you did what you had to do at the time. Crowley won’t hurt Gabriel, he can’t. Gabriel is his leverage over me. Crowley would kill Anna and he’d kill you. You did what you had to do.” 

Dean sighed. It didn’t matter how much reassurance Cas gave him, he didn’t think he’d ever be okay with what he’d done. 

“Can I come up?” Castiel asked.

“Up?” Dean repeated. “You mean upstairs? My apartment?” He jerked his thumb upwards, just to be completely sure that upstairs to his apartment was what Castiel meant. 

Thoughts danced rapidly through his head - the pile of unwashed dishes in the sink, the unmade bed, yesterday’s clothes thrown carelessly on the floor. That was bad enough, proof that Dean couldn’t take care of himself or the things he was given, but that wasn’t all. When Dean had first moved in, he’d hung his guns on the wall. He’d been proud of the display, proud of the weapons, but he wasn’t sure he wanted Castiel to see them. It would be another reminder that Dean was just a thug, too brutal and cruel for Castiel. 

“Please,” Castiel said quietly. “I don’t want to go back to the house. I want to stay with you.” 

Dean hesitated. Crowley would be awake by now. It was unlikely that he’d come looking for Dean, and even more unlikely that he’d come looking for his errant husband in Dean’s arms, but there was always the possibility. If Dean thought about it sensibly, his apartment was too close to the house, and to Crowley, to be safe, but it was hard to think of anything but Castiel and what he wanted.

“Yeah, okay. I’m just gonna apologize for the mess right now,” he said. 

Dean glanced back at the main house as he led Castiel up the stairs outside the garage that led to his apartment. He thought, for a moment, that he saw curtains twitching on the second floor, but when he looked again, the twitching had stopped. He was nervous, guilty, and it was making him see things that weren’t there. It could have just been one of the staff dusting. There was no reason to think anything other than that. 

Dean dug his keys from his pocket, unlocking the door and ushering Castiel in. 

He waited for Castiel to say something, to comment on how messy everything was, to pale when he saw the guns hung proudly on the wall, but Castiel didn’t do any of that. He turned and threw his arms around Dean’s neck and kissed him.

Dean staggered slightly, not expecting that. He brought his hands up to hold Castiel’s hips, steadying both of them and returned the kiss enthusiastically. After a moment, Castiel pulled away, breathless and smiling. 

“I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you at Gabriel’s.” 

Dean smiled back. “I wish I could kiss you all the time. I wish we didn’t have to hide.”

Castiel’s smile grew dark. “Maybe one of us will shoot my husband and then we won’t have to hide any longer.” 

Dean looked at him for a long moment, trying to gage if he was serious or not. Castiel had a dark sense of humor, an off-beat sense of humor that often didn’t sound funny at all. 

“I hated jail, Cas, but I’d go back for you,” he said seriously.

He had hated jail. He tried not to think about it. He didn’t have good memories, nothing to reminisce about. At night, when he couldn’t sleep, it was memories of his time in prison that came back to haunt him. He couldn’t think of too many scenarios where he willing went back there, but saving Castiel from his monster of a husband was one of them. 

Castiel’s eyes widened. He shook his head firmly.

“I don’t want you to go away,” he said. “I don’t care what else happens, I just don’t want you go away.” 

Dean didn’t say anything. He wanted to be able to to promise Castiel that he’d never leave, but he couldn’t. His life was dangerous. He could fall out of favor, get caught by the cops, or just end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was no job security in his line of work, no promise that he wasn’t going to his grave when he got up that day. He kissed the top of Castiel’s head, held on to him, and Castiel seemed to find reassurance in that touch. 

Castiel pressed against him, close as they could get with their clothes still on. He wasn’t seeking comfort now. Dean knew the difference

“I want to try something,” he said softly, looking up at Dean through his eyelashes in a way that was surprisingly disarming. “I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it, but I want to try. I want to give you a blow job.” 

Dean nodded, his mouth going dry. Castiel sucking his cock was one of the things he fantasized about, one of the things he wanted, but he’d never asked. To have Cas suggest it himself was beyond what Dean had imagined. 

“I’ve got condoms in my bedside table,” he offered.

Castiel laughed softly. 

Dean tugged him towards the bedroom, no longer caring about the unmade bed and the clothes on the floor. The clothes he was wearing now soon joined them as Dean stripped down to his underwear, thumbing at the waistband as Castiel searched through the drawer of the bedside table for the condoms. 

For a few seconds, Dean closed his eyes and pictured how Castiel would look with Dean’s come painted across his face, dotted white on his pink lips, stuck in his sooty eyelashes. It was an arousing thought. Dean opened his eyes and shoved his boxers down his hips. His cock was already hard, jutting out in front of him now it was freed from the confines of his underwear. 

Dean couldn’t help how turned on he got around Castiel. He’d always had a healthy appetite, always enjoyed sex, but with Castiel he enjoyed it even more. They couldn’t be together anywhere as often as Dean wanted the be. During the moments they stole together, Dean was always ready and raring to go. 

“I found them!” Castiel said triumphantly.

Dean turned to see him waving a little foil packet in the air. He followed Castiel’s gaze as it dropped down from his face to between his legs and couldn’t help his grin when Castiel licked his lips hungrily. 

It seemed that he wasn’t the only one who didn’t think they got enough time together. Castiel was just as eager as Dean was. It was never enough, no matter how much time they had together. It would never be enough, Dean thought, until he had Castiel forever and always. Anything else would always be a pale shadow of what he wanted. 

Castiel dropped to his knees, carefully ripping open the foil packet. He rolled the condom down Dean’s shaft, his head tilted to the side, tongue just poking out as he concentrated. Dean knew he’d never seen anyone else look like Castiel. They’d look bored, worn artificial sexy looks, sometimes even been frustrated, but no one else had ever looked as cute as Castiel did. He wasn’t artificial. He was open, honest. Normally, Dean would have been scared by that. He wouldn’t have wanted the responsibility that came with someone like Castiel, someone who was so trusting and innocent, but all of his rules were broken when it came to Castiel. 

Castiel rolled the condom down to the base of his cock, and just like that the look of concentration was gone. Instead Cas was leaning forward, nervously beginning to lap at the head of Dean’s cock. Dean let out a little sigh of pleasure and reached down to tangle his fingers in Castiel’s hair. He didn’t say anything, just let Castiel’s explore. This was his first time giving blow job. Castiel needed to feel comfortable, needed to decide what he would and wouldn’t do. He didn’t need Dean trying to guide him, didn’t need to feel compelled to do things because Dean was more experienced.

Dean stroked his fingers through Castiel’s messy black hair and moaned his encouragement as Castiel took the head of his cock in his mouth. There was nothing elegant and artful in Castiel’s technique. He was shy, hesitant, his touches just a bit too light for Dean. 

Then Castiel took too much in one sudden bob forward and pulled back coughing. 

“Hey, it’s okay, go slow,” Dean murmured. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to suck your cock,” Castiel said bluntly, looking up at Dean. 

Eyes still fixed on Dean, he leaned forward again and swallowed down the head of his cock. There was no more skill than before, but there was a lot more confidence. It was messy and inexperienced, but Dean didn’t care. It felt wonderful. 

Castiel moaned enthusiastically around the cock in his mouth, looking up at Dean with those bright blue eyes of his and Dean was lost. 

He tightened his hold in Castiel’s hair, forcing himself to hold back. He wanted to rock his hips forward, wanted to fuck into Castiel’s mouth but he didn’t. He held still, the muscles in his legs trembling as his orgasm washed over him. Castiel kept sucking and licking at his cock until Dean was spent and his legs wouldn’t hold him up any longer. 

He sat down on the bed with a bump, overwhelmed. Dean didn’t think he’d ever be able to close his eyes again without seeing Castiel down on his knees. All he’d need to do was remember Castiel telling him firmly that he wanted to suck his cock and he’d be hard in an instant. 

Dean took a few deep breaths, carefully rolling the used condom off his softening cock. He tied a knot in the condom and tossed it in the waste bin.

Castiel scrambled up onto the bed beside him. 

“I think I could do better next time,” he said, leaning against Dean and grinning. “Practice makes perfect after all.” 

Dean stared at Castiel’s lips, red and swollen, and moaned softly. He couldn’t get hard again, not right after coming, but he wanted to. He wanted the next time to be right then. 

Instead, he kissed Castiel, pulling at his clothes. It was no good, Castiel being dressed while Dean was naked. Castiel wiggled and pulled too and in a few minutes he was naked too, his cock hard and leaking. Dean knew he could suck Castiel off, could give Castiel a quick tutorial in the finer art of sucking cock, although Dean was no expert. He’d received a lot more blow jobs than he’d ever given. 

He could do that, but it wasn’t his plan. 

“I want you,“ he muttered. “Wanna fuck you with my tongue and with my fingers.” 

He didn’t know what he expected Castiel to do, but he didn’t expect Castiel to roll over on to his front and cant his hips up invitingly. He didn’t expect Castiel to look back over his shoulder at him and tell him to “ _get on with it then_ ”. He didn’t expect it, but he loved it.

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He angled himself between Castiel’s spread legs, carefully spreading his cheeks to reveal Castiel’s pink hole. He licked one slow, long stripe across the hole, waiting for Castiel’s reaction, but all Castiel did was wiggle back against his tongue and make needy sounds that went straight to Dean’s cock, making it twitch with interest. 

He kept licking; faster, shorter little licks until he felt Castiel relax, and then he dipped his tongue inside Castiel. Castiel moaned, hands clenched in the sheets as Dean fucked him on his tongue, making sure Castiel was slick and open before he slid one finger in alongside. He knew Cas was responsive, knew that he felt everything and felt it strongly, but he wasn’t prepared for how well Cas took that finger, or the second one Dean slid in. He rocked his hips back, fucking himself on Dean’s fingers, on his tongue, mewling for him.

Dean wished he could get hard again, wished he could slide into Castiel now and fuck him because Castel seemed to need it so badly, but that wasn’t an option. Even if he could get hard again, that wasn’t an option without condoms and lube. 

He pressed his fingers deep into Cas, search for that spot inside him and he knew he’d found it when Castiel gasped out his name suddenly and come, arching his back. He was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen, completely wild and undone. He held Castiel up, easing his fingers out, and continued lapping at Castiel’s pink, slightly puffy hole until Castiel was almost incoherent. 

It was only then that Dean pulled away, letting Castiel sink down onto the bed. He settled beside him, stroking Castiel’s back, enjoying the sight of him breathless and shaking.

It only took Castiel a few seconds to catch his breath though, and then he turned his head, smiling up at Dean.

“Are you going to do that every time I give you a blow job? Because if you are, I like that reward system,” he teased. 

**

They couldn’t cuddle up in bed together. There was no chance of falling asleep, no chance of a second round or even blissfully doing nothing together, just lying in bed. 

Castiel showered quickly while Dean stripped the bed and threw the sheets in the wash. By the time Castiel was finished in the shower, all traces of what they’d done had been cleaned away.

He wanted Castiel to stay. 

There was no point in pretending he could. No point in delaying the inevitable. Castiel came out of the shower, grabbed his clothes and that was it. He kissed Dean goodbye and Dean bit his lip to stop from begging him to stay. He wanted Castiel there with him. Dean wanted to wake up every morning with Castiel there beside him. He wanted to cook him breakfast in bed to make sure he was eating. He wanted to fuck Castiel into the mattress and fall asleep with his arms wrapped around him. 

They both knew Castiel couldn’t stay. That wasn’t the way it worked. That was why what they had was an affair, something cheap and dirty, something that had to hide. It shouldn’t be that way, but as long as Castiel was married, it was what it was. 

Castiel couldn’t stay with Dean until something changed, until Crowley wasn’t a threat anymore. 

Castiel couldn’t stay with him until he was free to choose to stay. 

Dean knew that, but he didn’t know how to make it happen. 

**

The file in her hand was too light. 

There should have been more to it, much more. It should have been pages and pages, spilling over into other files, taking up a whole filing cabinets to themselves. There should have been a task force working on this case, not just Anna on her own. 

Only now it wasn’t even Anna on her own. Naomi had made that clear. This was a dead end and Anna had already wasted too much time on it. She had new cases assigned to her, cases she could get results on. Her file on Crowley, everything Castiel had been able to tell her, it wasn’t worth the paper it was written on from Naomi’s point of view. 

Castiel Novak was being hung out to dry and there was nothing Anna could do for him. 

Nothing, except keep her own private files on the case and keep seeing him privately. Naomi wouldn’t like it, and she’d probably have Anna reported for being insubordinate if she found out, but Anna couldn’t leave him without a life line. 

Castiel was in danger and she couldn’t just abandon him, whatever her boss said.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel was grateful that Crowley had given him his own bedroom. He held no illusions that it was done for his benefit. Crowley, married or not, didn’t always want his husband around. Their separate spheres were an integral part of their marriage. It meant that Castiel had somewhere in the house to escape to that wasn’t tainted by Crowley’s influence.

It was a beautiful bedroom, decorated in expensive simplicity. Castiel had been advised he could redecorate, but he liked that the room was impersonal. It was how he’d imagined staying in an expensive hotel would feel. He never felt completely at home and he wanted that. He wanted to feel that he could leave at any moment, that he had nothing precious or personal to tie him down to Crowley and the house.

There was an armchair, upholstered in a soft dove grey. It was ridiculously comfortable. Castiel preferred it to the bed. He liked to curl up in it, legs drawn up under him in the way his mother had always disapproved of when he was younger. It would leave him with kinks in his spine, she had said. Castiel had no idea if that was possible, but he remembered it. It had never stopped him from sitting with his legs tucked under him though.

He sat in the chair now, curled up, and thought about all the other things he’d been told not to do, but that he’d done anyway.

Castiel knew he should feel guilty. He ought to be. It was hard for Dean to understand, he knew, but Dean hadn’t grown up going to church. He hadn’t taken the lessons about Heaven and Hell and the weight of sin to heart. Castiel had.

For a very brief time, he’d entertained thoughts about following Michael into the priesthood, but that life wasn’t for him. When push came to shove he would be found wanting every time. He was fallible, corruptible. When the choice was Dean, he took to sin so easily. His mother had always said Dean was a bad influence. She had never wanted them to be friends when they were children. Castiel could only imagine how horrified she’d be if she found out that Dean was now his lover.

That wasn’t likely to happen. Castiel ensured that she was well-cared for, that there was money to provide for her medical bills and a night nurse to help so Raphael was not her sole carer, but he never went home. Neither his mother or Raphael approved of his marriage. Castiel wasn’t sure if it was the fact that Crowley was a mobster or a man that worried them more. The world had moved on, Michael performed marriage ceremonies for gay couples, happy to give them his and the churches blessing, but that didn’t mean everyone else had moved on too.

In a way, it was easier to keep them at arm's length. Castiel didn’t want them involved with Crowley. They were safer staying in the little apartment Castiel had grown up in, shopping at the same corner shop, attending the same church and never venturing into the world Castiel was embroiled in.

Selfishly, he was glad they weren’t part of his life now Dean was such a prominent part of it.

He didn’t think they ever could have understood how much he needed Dean. He wasn’t sure anyone could understand. Dean made his life bearable. For however long he was trapped in his marriage to Crowley, having Dean around made Castiel want to live. He’d stopped drinking, he’d started eating properly. He felt human again after being lost for so long. All of that was down to Dean.

That didn’t mean he didn’t feel guilty about breaking his vow to God. He’d married because he had to, not because he wanted to, but he still believed in the covenant of marriage. If things were different, he would never have had an affair. Admittedly, for those things to be different he would have had to be married to Dean. Castiel already knew he was fatally drawn to Dean, that whatever the situation he would always be drawn to him. He felt a pull whenever he was near Dean, desperate to be with him. That wouldn’t change if Crowley was out of the picture.

Almost as if he knew Castiel was thinking about him, Crowley appeared in the doorway of the bedroom.

‘ _Speak of the Devil_ ,’ Castiel thought with a wry little smile.

Crowley was carrying a big box in his hands, wearing an expression Castiel didn’t like. It was self-satisfied, smug, like the cat that had got the cream. Castiel felt a wave of trepidation wash over him and he focused on the box in Crowley’s hands.

“What’s that?” he asked, uncurling himself, poised to spring from the chair if he needed to.

“It’s polite to say hello first, Castiel,” Crowley said.

Castiel braced himself for a lecture on his failings, but it seemed Crowley was far too delighted to let Castiel’s bad temper dent his happiness. He set the box down in front of Castiel and lifted the lid.

Castiel drew in a deep breath.

There, nestled in tissue paper, was the white fur coat.

Castiel had almost completely forgotten about it. He’d been so wrapped up in Dean, he’d let everything else fall by the wayside. He certainly hadn’t been thinking about Crowley and his duties as a husband.

His stomach flipped unpleasantly, a wave of nausea washing over him. He didn’t want Crowley to touch him, he didn’t want anyone but Dean to touch him, but now the coat was here and the deadline was over.

“It took it’s time getting here, but I think it was worth the wait,” Crowley said, stroking one hand over the coat. “I like the color, Castiel. Very fitting.”

Castiel stared at the coat.

White for innocence, for virginity. He certainly wasn’t a virgin anymore. He and Dean had very thoroughly seen to that.

That didn’t mean he was any more ready and willing to let Crowley fuck him though.

He knew now what it was to be loved. He knew how it felt to be held by Dean, to come apart in Dean’s arms and to have Dean come apart inside him. He didn’t want to be soiled by Crowley. It would never be consensual, never wanted, with Crowley. Anything Crowley did to him would always be rape.

Crowley lifted out the coat, holding it out to Castiel.

“I hope you haven’t forgotten our little deal, Castiel. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you modelling this for me.”

Castiel stood up automatically, his hands moving of their own accord to take the coat from Crowley. He felt as if he was having an out of body experience. He felt as if he was watching everything, as if it was a play being performed and he was powerless to interrupt or affect the outcome. Everything was already scripted and all Castiel could do was endure it until the end.

“Give me a moment,” he said, his voice flat. “I need to change.”

Crowley smiled at him, obviously pleased that Castiel hadn’t tried to come up with an excuse or resist him in anyway.

“I’ll be just outside,” he said.

Castiel waited for him to leave, then he set the coat back down in it’s box. Slowly, he stripped out of his clothes, folding them and setting them aside. He felt numb. He was naked before he knew it. He didn’t feel anything, not cold, not warm. It was unsettling to be so empty, so devoid of feeling, after feeling so alive with Dean. In the space of a few minutes, all the color had gone out of his life. Everything that had been keeping him going seemed so far away now. The impersonal air of the bedroom added to the coldness now. It was no longer reassuring, reminding him that he could escape. It was instead a reminder that Crowley had planned and schemed to get him here, to trap him in his killing jar and then slowly poison Castiel until he was too weak to fight back.

Mechanically, he reached for the fur coat.

He pulled it on, frowning to himself because the fit was perfect. It was lined inside, soft and delicate against his skin. It was the most well-made coat he had ever had, but Castiel didn’t forget that something had to die for the coat to exist. He pulled is closed and slowly buttoned it up.

He wiggled his bare toes, waiting for some sensation, waiting to feel something, but the numbness was still there. He called out to Crowley and a moment later the door opened.

Crowley looked him up and down, from head to toe. He smiled widely.

Castiel stared straight ahead, unseeing, unfeeling. The disconnect was growing stronger. Castiel didn’t belong in his own body anymore. He was somewhere else, watching this happen, but not really a part of it. He’d felt that way on his wedding day. He’d heard himself exchange his vows, he’d said the words, but he hadn’t really been there. It had all felt as if it was happening to someone else.

Maybe that was the only way Castiel could cope. He had to switch off, had to disappear and just go through the motions because if he faced up to what was happening then he couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t accept that he was married to a mobster, couldn’t accept that he was that man’s toy to play with.

Crowley stepped towards him, licking his lips.

“You do look delicious, kitten,” he said, reaching out with both hands to begin unbuttoning Castiel’s coat.

All at once, reality snapped back.

Castiel couldn’t pretend this was happening to someone else. He couldn’t let his consciousness float away and just wait for it to be over. He knew what was going to happen now, he knew the details intimately and he couldn’t allow Crowley to do that to his body, to him.

“Don’t touch me,” he snapped.

“Castiel,” Crowley said. It was supposed to be a warning warning, a reminder that Castiel was too close to stepping out of line.

Castiel slapped his hands away. In that moment he didn’t care about the consequences. He just needed to protect himself. He couldn’t be Crowley’s. He couldn’t.

“This isn’t happening,” he said. “You don’t get to touch me. Our deal was that I married you, and I did that. You don’t get to touch me.”

He had never seen Crowley truly angry before but he saw it now. The man had always been cold, always good at suggestions and innuendos, never coming out and saying what he meant and never losing his temper, but now Castiel saw fire behind his eyes.

Crowley grabbed him by the arms, holding on to him tight enough to bruise.

“You are mine, Castiel. No technicalities, no loopholes. You sold yourself to me and you’re mine to do with as I want. You’re my whore.”

Castiel didn’t know where his strength came from, but he wrenched himself away from Crowley.

“I am not your whore. I am your husband and you will show me some respect,” he hissed.

There was fear in Crowley’s eyes, he realized. Crowley had been expecting something else, someone else. He had wanted demure and broken, but he hadn’t broken Castiel yet. He would never break him. Crowley might have set this deadline, might have expected Castiel to cave to him, but that was because he didn’t know Castiel. He knew a facsimile, an idea he’d created in his own head. He couldn’t grasp just who Castiel was.

At one point, Castiel had been terrified of Crowley, but Castiel could see him now for what he was. Without his hired guns, without the threats of violence, Crowley was just an overweight, middle aged man who was being to lose his hair. He had no power, no control. He didn’t frighten Castiel anymore.

He pushed past Crowley, heading towards the front door. He didn’t care that he was naked save for the fur coat, didn’t care that Crowley would be angry with him, that there would be hell to pay when Crowley caught up with him. He walked through the house, holding his head high. If the servants had heard the argument, if they saw him now, they kept out of his way. After the flash of anger and burning bright noise, Castiel walked in silence.

He paused for a moment to unlock the front door, throwing it wide to let in the sun before he kept on walking, across the gravel drive that cut and scored into his feet, making for the garage and Dean.

He needed Dean. It was a primal drive inside of him, pushing him forward. If someone had put a stethoscope to his heart now they would have heard it beating out the constant rhythm of Dean’s name.

The garage door was open, the sound of music floating out, something that was all guitars and drums. Dean was working on the car. He was inside, cleaning the dashboard, singing to himself. He hadn’t even noticed Castiel, he was so engrossed in his work.

It was a stupid moment of normality, another reminder that Castiel’s life, living in constant fear of Crowley and what would happen to him, wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be carefree and happy. He was supposed to be like Dean was now.

Castiel opened the back door of the car and threw himself onto the back seat. He slammed the door behind him.

He would not be controlled anymore. He would not be docile and lifeless, not for anyone.

He saw Dean look up, startled.

“Just drive,” he said.

Dean didn’t need to be told twice.

**

One of the car doors opened, then slammed quickly shut.

Dean glanced up into the rear view mirror, surprised to see the back seat taken up by Castiel. He looked unlike Dean had ever seen him before, wrapped up in a white fur coat, his hair tousled lips pinker, eyes darker. He looked sinful.

 

 

“Just drive,” Castiel said.

The radio was playing an old song that Dean knew by heart. A moment ago, when he’d been alone, Dean would have sung along to it but now wasn’t the time. He switched off the radio quickly and found the car keys.

The engine roared into life.

Dean reversed out of the garage and sped down the drive, through the gates and onto the street. He didn’t know where Castiel wanted him to go. Away from the house seemed the safest bet, so Dean just drove. He drove until they were through the suburbs, heading towards the open road. It was so tempting to keep on driving, to hit the highway and just runaway, but Dean knew that wasn’t an option. He was pretty certain Castiel was naked underneath that coat. They had no money, no plans and he was driving a car registered to Crowley. Someone would be sent after them, someone with a gun and orders to bring Castiel back at any cost.

In the past that person would have been Dean, but not anymore. The more time he spent with Castiel, the less willing Dean was to play Crowley’s lackey. It was hard to be loyal to the man who kept Castiel trapped, who made him miserable. Dean knew in his heart that he couldn’t follow any order that would make Castiel’s life worse. It just wasn’t in him anymore.

The highway stretched out before them, shining and bright, but Dean took another turning. This one lead off to the outskirts of the city, to a wooded area that during the middle of the day was peaceful and quiet. Dean had been there in the night, when the peacefulness was eerie. It was a reminder that, although the lights of the city could be seen twinkling nearby, they were far enough away that no one could hear screams. There might be bodies buried out in the woods, Dean had never got that far. Usually the threat of a sudden, violent death had been enough to convince whoever was with him that it was better to see things Crowley's way and not put up a fight.

It seemed strange that he should have bought Castiel to this place, especially when he had no intention of following Crowley’s way.

Dean parked the car and turned in his seat, looking back past the headrest at Castiel. Castiel was stretched out sulkily across the back seat, his bare feet up on the leather.

“Do you want to talk?” Dean asked.

Castiel shook his head. He didn’t speak, just breathed in angrily, chest rising and falling heavily.

“Cas, talk to me,” Dean said.

He didn’t like the silence. He didn’t like the wild, dangerous look in Castiel’s eye. It reminded him of back in the motel room, when Castiel had been so close to the edge he’d actually wanted Dean to shoot him.

The fur coat had come. Dean could see that. He just didn’t know what that meant yet.

“Did Crowley do something to you?” he asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. The last thing he wanted was for Castiel to think he was angry at him.

Castiel shook his head slowly.

“No,” he said. “He wanted to, but I couldn’t...I was going to, but I couldn’t. I thought about you, about what it’s supposed to be like and I couldn’t let him ruin that.”

Dean scrambled into the backseat, not caring that he was scuffing the leather. At one point, it would have been important to him. He cared about the car, cared about what Crowley thought and the condition he kept it in, but that time was long passed. The only thing that mattered now was getting his arms around Castiel, making sure Castiel knew he was safe.

Castiel burrowed into his arms, pushing determinedly to get as close to Dean as he could. Dean held him, kissed his hair, rocked him close. He knew Castiel’s marriage was rotten from the core, but it hurt every time there was a reminder of it. No one should be able to threaten Cas, to make him sound so lost and frightened.

“What do you need me to do, Cas?” Dean asked.

In that moment he would have done whatever Castiel needed. If that meant throwing caution to the winds and driving off then he’d do that. They could change their names, live off grid. Whatever Castiel needed. If it meant shooting Crowley, then Dean was ready to strap a target to his back and accept whatever fallout came. He just knew he couldn’t let Castiel live another day with that man controlling him.

Castiel wiggled out of his arms. Dean watched, his eyes widening, as Castiel slowly unbuttoned the coat.

“I want you to make me feel good, Dean. I want you to hold me and make me forget,” he said.

Dean didn’t need to be told twice.

Castiel moved restlessly against him, gasping his name as Dean opened him up. Dean always had condoms with him and those little packets of lube he got from dispensers in clubs. These ones had ‘ _Debauchery_ ’ written on them. It had been a long time since Dean had been there, not counting the night Crowley had gone with him, but the packet had still sat in his wallet waiting for him.

Dean tore the packet open and coated his fingers. He wondered if he should care about spoiling Castiel’s coat. The marks they were going to leave behind would never come out.

Castiel seemed to read his mind because he arched his back and growled out “Please, Dean, just do it.”

Dean pressed his slicked fingers to Castiel’s hole, rubbing in soft, slow circles until he felt Castiel open to him. He pressed in one finger, then another one, feeling Castiel adjust and push back against him. They’d done this enough that Dean had started to learn Castiel’s tells. Castiel might have been a virgin when they started, but that didn’t mean he was bashful and shy. His little gasps, the way he moved his hips, how he used his hands, all those things told Dean just what Castiel wanted.

Castiel didn’t want slow. He didn’t want Dean to take his time and make it last. He wanted rough and desperate. Already Castiel was trying to fuck himself on Dean’s fingers, squeezing tight around them.

Dean added a third finger, watching Castiel’s face for any signs of pain, but there were none. Castiel had his eyes closed, his mouth open as he gasped in pleasure. A few more thrusts of his fingers and Dean was sure Castiel could take him.

He pulled his fingers out, sitting back to shove his trousers down. He reached for his wallet again, reaching for a condom, when Castiel opened his eyes.

“Don’t,” Castiel said.

“Cas, it’s gonna leave a stain,” Dean huffed.

They’d always used a condom. It had been for their own protection as much as caring about safe sex. Once the condom was disposed of, it was easier to pretend that sex hadn’t happened. Castiel wouldn’t be dripping with Dean’s come. The thought of filling Castiel up, marking him deep inside, made Dean’s cock twitch with interest. Dean wanted to do it, wanted to mark him deep in a place Crowley would never get to, but that didn’t make it a smart idea.

“I don’t care,” Castiel said. “I want to feel you Dean. I need to feel you.”

Dean licking his lips.

If it was what Castiel needed then he wouldn’t refuse him. He dropped his wallet and settled between Castiel’s spread legs. He wrapped his fingers around his giving himself a quick squeeze at the base, determined not to come too soon. It was overwhelming, having Castiel so close to him, knowing he was going to fuck him with no barrier in between them.

Dean had always used a condom, whoever he’d been with. This was the first time in a long time that he’d gone without and it meant something that he was sharing that with Castiel. It meant more than any macho ideas about ownership and keeping a part of Castiel from Crowley. It meant Castiel trusted him. He trusted Dean enough to share everything with him and that was a heady concept.

Dean leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Castiel’s lips as he guided the head of his cock to press against Castiel’s hole. One slow, smooth thrust and he was buried inside Castiel.

Dean had to hold still, had to pull away from the kiss and close his eyes tight. Being inside Castiel had always felt good, but this was something different. This was more, another boundary removed. It shouldn’t have mattered and yet it really did. It mattered a lot to Dean who didn’t do relationships, who’d never loved anyone enough to be vulnerable with them.

It was sex but it was sex with Castiel. It was sex that meant something. Every time he held Castiel, every time he was inside him, Dean fell more and more in love. It was love that he felt with Castiel. Not jealousy, not lust. He was head over heals, completely and utterly in love with Castiel.

He realized it and in that moment he realized that he couldn’t let Castiel live as a caged creature anymore. Even if it meant Dean might lose him, he had to free Castiel. He couldn’t do it by posturing. He couldn’t do it by playing Crowley’s game. He had to choose Castiel and follow through on that, whatever the consequences for himself.

He opened his eyes and reached out, grabbing hold of Castiel’s hand. He tangled their fingers together, holding on as tight as he could. Castiel smiled at him, so warm and so loving that Dean knew he’d do anything to protect him.

He moved quickly, the pace rough, demanding, pounding into Castiel just like Castiel needed. Castiel hooked his legs up around Dean’s hips, moaned his name and took it. It might have seemed brutal but Dean knew it wasn’t. They needed to be as close as they could. There was no luxury of time. Castiel had stormed out of the house and gone straight to Dean. Even now Crowley was probably looking for him. They had no time but they had to be together. That meant hard and fast, hands clasped tight together and kisses stolen between gasps.

Castiel came first, gasping out Dean’s name. Dean last a few more deep, desperate thrusts before he came too, collapsing with all his weight on top of Castiel. He expected Castiel to push him away, to complain that he was heavy but Castiel just pulled him closer and kissed across his sweaty face.

Dean knew then that he was going to tell Castiel he loved him. He’d never said the words before, never felt it before, but he did now. In an ideal world, he’d tell Castiel somewhere romantic, not squashed together in the back of a car, coming down from the high of sex, but the world wasn’t ideal.

“I...Cas, I…” Dean pressed his face into the crook of Castiel’s neck, trying to regain his composure. He could feel himself trembling. He didn’t want to lose it, but this mattered to him. It mattered more than anything else. “I love you, okay?”

He felt Castiel tense. Seconds seemed to stretch into hours. Dean wanted to pull away, pretend he hadn’t said anything. He wanted the ground to open and swallow him up, but none of those things happened. The seconds ticked by and then Castiel said “I love you too.”

Dean swallowed, a thick knot of emotion caught in his throat. Hearing Castiel say those words was better than he could ever have imagined. He’d never dared let himself believe, even after everything Castiel had said, that he could love him back. Castiel was good, he was decent. He deserved more than Dean could ever offer him, but he still loved Dean back.

Dean was going to prove that he was worth Castiel’s love. He was going to set him free.

“Cas,” he whispered. “I’ve got a plan.”

“What sort of plan?” Castiel asked. His voice was low.

Dean didn’t know why they were whispering now. They didn’t need to, they were alone, but it seemed neither of them wanted to disturb the calm that had settled over them.

Dean kissed Castiel’s shoulder.

“It’s better you don’t know, I don’t want you implicated if things go wrong,” he said.

Castiel tensed again, almost rigid now in Dean’s arms.

“Please don’t do anything dangerous,” he said quietly. “I need you, Dean.”

“Yes, but you need to be free too,” Dean said, nuzzling against Castiel’s throat. “Don’t you worry about me, Cas. I’ll be okay. Just let me do this. If it works, everything will be okay.”

Castiel nodded. Dean could felt the movement. He was sure Castiel wasn’t happy with his plan, but that was just because he didn’t know yet what Dean was going to do for him.

Dean was going to get Crowley’s book, the one with all the names of his corrupt cops.

He’d give that to Castiel and then Castiel would be able to make the FBI sit up and take notice.

Dean just hoped that when Castiel left, he’d find a way to take Dean with him.

**

Castiel was normally sleepy after sex, but not this time.

He was awake, wired, filled with concern about Dean and what he planned. He was also sticky and uncomfortable. He felt his nudity more keenly now with Dean’s come dripping down the back of his thighs. The coat was ruined. He’d have to burn it or destroy it somehow. One look at it and Crowley would know he’d been with someone. It gave Castiel a thrill, but it was only a short lived one until he remembered Crowley’s promise to put a bullet in anyone Castiel was sleeping with.

He and Dean were playing a dangerous game, now even more so. Castiel wished Dean would tell him what he was doing. He trusted Dean completely, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he worried Dean was putting himself in danger. Castiel could live with being married to Crowley if he got to keep Dean. If Dean did something to get himself hurt or killed then Castiel would never forgive himself.

He loved Dean so much. It had been the best moment of his life when he’d found out Dean loved him back. Now there was a risk of losing him and Castiel couldn’t stand that.

Dean drove them back to Crowley’s grand house slowly. They didn’t talk. Castiel knew they only had one thing to talk about, Dean’s plan, and Dean had made it clear he wouldn’t tell Castiel just exactly what that was.

Dean dropped him off right outside the house. He touched Castiel’s hand gently just before Castiel opened the car door and climbed out. He only had to walk a few feet on the chipped gravel drive. The front door was unlocked. Castiel had expected there to be someone waiting for him - one of the servants with a message from Crowley, or Crowley himself. The entrance hallway was dark, but Castiel didn’t give it another thought.

He wrapped the white coat tightly around himself and ran up the stairs, up to his bed room.

He knew he should have a shower, that he should wash away all traces of Dean from his skin, but he didn’t want to. He threw off the fur coat, leaving it on the floor,standing naked in the middle of the room. He was sore, sticky. His body ached. He’d have bruises tomorrow from how roughly Dean had fucked him. It felt wonderful to Castiel. He wanted to have Dean with him always but that wasn’t possible. The marks Dean left on him were the reminders he had that in his heart he belonged to Dean.

He stood there for a moment, brushing his fingers across his hips, over the length of his body. He wanted to stay in the moment, remembering how it felt to have Dean inside him, so close to him, although he knew he couldn’t stand there like that all day.

Castiel gave himself a little shake and moved to grab some of his own clothes, the clothes he felt comfortable in. He pulled on a pair of boxers, some grey slacks and an old, faded shirt that had once been white but had been through the spin cycle so many times it was now a grey color. He buttoned that up, feeling more relaxed than he’d done in hours.

He’d get rid of the coat. There was no way he’d ever be able to give Crowley what he wanted.

Of course, he realized with a sickening sinking feeling, that might mean Cowley following through on one of his threats. Castiel had been so distracted by his own happiness, he hadn’t even thought about what was at stake. A pang of guilt hit him, forcing him to sit down. He’d married Crowley to protect his family, to protect Gabriel, and he’d been so completely consumed in Dean that he’d all but forgotten that.

It seemed inconceivable that he could have forgotten, and they’d never really been far from his mind, but they hadn’t been the priority they should have been.

Castiel breathed in deeply, trying to shake the sick feeling that had settled over him. What if Crowley was hurting them now? What if he was making them pay for Castiel’s refusal?

He forced himself to remain calm, to remember that he had no proof, just his own feeling of disquiet and dread. He had not survived so long in his marriage to Crowley by becoming hysterical. He’d planned, been careful and calculating. He had lost some of that coldness when he’d fallen in love with Dean. He’d lost some of his focus, but not all of it.

There was a loose floorboard under his bed. Castiel knew because he’d loosened it himself, prying it up when Crowley was out of the house. He’d needed a hiding place, somewhere to keep things that were private and personal to him. It was where he’d hidden the burner phone Anna had given him with her number on.

Castiel got down onto his hands and knees quickly, burrowing under the bed and pulling up the loose board. He felt around until he grabbed hold of a plastic bag, the bag he’d wrapped the phone in to keep it safe. He was the one who always called Anna. She never called him. The phone had just one number in it - hers - and Castiel knew to only call it when he really needed to talk to her.

He really needed to talk to her now. Anna was the only person he could go to. He couldn’t ask Dean to protect his family. Dean would do it, Castiel knew, but he was already putting himself in danger. Besides, Castiel felt he might need bigger metaphorical guns than Dean could bring. Anna had the backing of the FBI. Where his family was involved, Castiel wanted to know the FBI was on his side.

He stood up, dialing Anna’s number. The phone rang once, twice, then picked up.  
Castiel heard Anna’s voice on the end of the line just as he head footsteps outside his door. He slipped the phone quickly into his pocket. It was still on, Anna was still at the other end, and Castiel thought he might need her there because he was sure who was about to demand Castiel let him in.

He cast a guilty look towards the white fur coat but there was no time to hide that.

Crowley didn’t knock. He didn’t pretend that Castiel had a right to privacy now, or to be left alone. He opened the door and walked right in.

He owned everything in the house, Castiel included, and now he was acting like the master.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Crowley asked.

Castiel froze.

For a moment, he thought Crowley meant the phone in his pocket. He imagined that Crowley knew everything, all about the meetings with Anna, everything Castiel had been willing to do, the information he would have given her if he’d had it. He didn’t know how Crowley could have found out, but he had spies everywhere. When Dean stopped feeding him information, he could have turned to someone else.

It wouldn’t have been hard for him to find out what Castiel had been doing. Castiel had been so careless recently, so careless since Dean.

It only took him a second to realize that he’d been far more careless about Dean than he’d ever been about anything else.

“Did you think I wouldn’t know?” Crowley snarled, his lip curling in disgust. “Winchester’s stench is all over you.”

Castiel didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. There was no point in lying. Crowley was right, he was covered in Dean - in his scent, in his come, in his kisses and marks. Castiel hadn’t even tried to hide it. He’d asked for it, all of it, as proof that he belonged to Dean. He had been so stupid, mindlessly and completely stupid.

Crowley nodded, Castiel silence seemingly all he needed as conformation.

He reached into the folds of his black suit jacket and pulled out a gun.

Castiel didn’t think he’d ever seen Crowley with a gun before. Crowley didn’t need to carry one. He’d always had someone else to do his dirty work. It didn’t comfort Castiel in the slightest to know that Crowley considered this more important, more worthy of his hands on touch, than the day to day running of his empire ever was.

“I said I’d kill anyone you were having an affair with, Castiel. Just because it’s one of my own men won’t make a difference. Dean knew what would happen, I told him personally, but I suppose he just couldn’t resist the forbidden fruit you dangled in front of him. I always knew you were a whore, Castiel. I just didn’t realize you spread that easily and for such a low-class man.”

“Are you going to shoot me too?” Castiel asked.

He just prayed Anna had stayed on the line, that she was recording this call. If he died, at least Anna might be able to use this conversation as evidence against Crowley. She might be able to protect Castiel’s family when he couldn’t.

Crowley smiled.

He was enjoying this, Castiel realized. He wanted to see Castiel frightened, wanted to see him hurt.

“No, I don’t plan on shooting you. You are still my husband, Castiel, even if you are sullied now. I just plan on making you watch as I execute your dear Dean.”

Castiel took a step towards Crowley. “Don’t!”

He had nothing to bargain with, nothing to plead with. He knew his words would fall on deaf ears. Castiel was just a possession to Crowley. He had to be taught a lesson, put back in his place. Crowley would never forgive this transgression, no matter what Castiel said.

It must be obvious to Crowley just how much Castiel loved Dean. Taking Dean away from him was the perfect way to punish Castiel. If Crowley had been looking for a way to break him, then he’d found it. If Dean was going to die, then Castiel didn’t want to live either.

“I swear, Crowley, if you hurt Dean, I will spend every second of my life finding a way to destroy you,” he gasped.

It wouldn’t be a long life, not without Dean in it, but Castiel would still find a way to ruin Crowley before he ended it.

Crowley laughed, a self-satisfied laugh that made Castiel feel more powerless than he’d ever done in his life. He had nothing to offer in exchange for Dean’s life, nothing Crowley wanted. Crowley could take and take and take from Castiel until he bled him dry.

He had caught Castiel, had boxed him and had finally found a way to pin his wings.

**

Crowley dragged Castiel down the stairs, keeping a tight grip on his arm. Crowley didn’t make idle threats. If his demands weren’t met, he was more than capable of carrying them through. Castiel had always known that. It was why he’d agreed to marry Crowley in the first place. Gabriel would have died if he hadn’t.

For some stupid, love-blind reason he’d thought he’d be able to get away with his affair. He’d thought he and Dean would be able to keep each other safe. He should have known that couldn’t be.

Part of him hoped this was a bluff, that Dean was sitting peacefully in his apartment above the garage, unaware of what was happening and safe. It was a baseless hope, but Castiel clung to it, until Crowley pushed the door of his study open and Castiel caught sight of Dean.

He was beaten and bloodied, kneeling on the polished wood floor, two of Crowley’s lackeys standing behind him to make sure he stayed there. His lip was split, his eye swollen, his nose broken where someone had punched him. Castiel couldn’t begin to imagine the injuries Dean had that he couldn’t see. Someone had given Dean a thorough going over, probably at Crowley’s request. It broke Castiel’s heart to see him like that.

“Dean,” he whispered.

When Dean saw him, he tried to struggle to his feet, crying out in pain as he shifted his weight to his left leg, but he was shoved back down to his knees.

“Cas,” he gasped, voice ragged.

“We caught him trying to steal this,” one of the men behind Dean said.

He passed Crowley a bound black book that Crowley snatched from his hands.

Castiel looked at Dean in some confusion. He couldn’t see why a book would have been worth risking his life.

“That’s his contact list,” Dean said, wincing as he nodded his head in the direction of the book. “It’s got all of Crowley’s corrupt cops in it, all his lawyers and judges and the people he’s bought. I was going to get it for you Cas. I thought...I thought you could be free if you had that.”

He smiled, watery and tight, and Castiel’s heart gave a great heave in his chest.

Dean - noble, wonderful Dean - was going to die. He was going to die because Castiel hadn’t been strong enough, or smart enough, or brave enough to save him.

Castiel spun round, dragging his arm free of Crowley’s hold so he could face him.

“Tell me what to do, tell me what you need to keep him alive,” he pleaded. “Just tell me what it is, Crowley, because I’ll do it. I’ll be yours completely, I’ll never see Dean again, I’ll do whatever you want, just please don’t hurt him!”

“Begging, Castiel?“ Crowley asked, amused. “You’ve changed your tune. What happened to destroying me?”

“Please,” Castiel said desperately. He didn't know what else to say.

He didn’t need Crowley to mock him and humiliate him now. He was already as low as he could be, grovelling and begging for Crowley to save Dean’s life.

“The problem is, Castiel, that you have nothing to offer me any more. You gave your last bargaining chip away to Dean here and I’m not in the mood to make any deals today,” Crowley said.

Castiel went limp. He knew it had been a long shot but he’d been praying. He’d prayed so hard for Dean, for a miracle and nothing had happened. Now Dean would die and there was nothing Castiel could do. He wanted to sink to his knees and scream, wail out his despair to the sky, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything.

Crowley motioned one of his men over.

“Hold him still,” he instructed, pointing to Castiel. “I don’t want him getting any ideas. Make sure he watches. I want him to see everything.”

The man grasped hold of Castiel, pinning his arms to his sides, holding him up because Castiel’s legs were threatening to give out under him.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. He loved Dean and Dean loved him and that was supposed to be enough. It was supposed to be enough.

Crowley pointed his gun at Dean’s head. Dean stared up at him defiantly, snarl on his lips.

“Shoot me,” he hissed. “It won’t make Cas love you. It won’t make him stop loving me. You can’t have him, so you might as well just shoot me already.”

“Dean!” Castiel cried, trying to make him stop, trying to keep him alive for a few seconds longer.

He waited for the sound of a gunshot but it never came.

Instead there was another noise, a noise that had been playing on the edge of Castiel’s consciousness but that was now so loud and so close that it couldn’t be ignored. It was the sound of sirens. They were in the driveway, Castiel could see the flashing lights through the window. Here was the miracle he’d been praying for.

“Keep them here,” Crowley growled, shoving the gun back inside his jacket.

He disappeared from the room and Castiel was shoved unceremoniously towards Dean. He fell down to his knees and wrapped his arms around Dean, kissing his cheek, trying to find somewhere that wasn’t bruised and covered in blood.

“I love you,” he murmured.

He knew he should be thinking of a plan, trying to find some way for them to escape, but he couldn’t think of anything but Dean, safe and alive in his arms.

“I love you too,” Dean said. He lowered his voice, whispering in Castiel’s ear. “I think I can take one of them out, can you get the other one? We can make a run for it out the back.”

Castiel looked up. He didn’t think he could tackle either of the men who were left guarding them, and he didn’t think Dean was in any fit state to. He might have concussion and those men were likely to armed. Dean had no chance.

“No, no, Dean,” he whispered.

It was then he became aware of raised voices outside the door. Dean was still muttering, still trying to convince him that they needed to take their chance, but Castiel was only half-listening to him. His attention was on the voices outside - Crowley’s voice and the voice of a woman he knew very well.

Anna was outside that door.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said, cradling Dean against him. “It’s going to be okay.”

“This is private property,” Crowley’s voice rose shrilly. “You need a warrant.”

“Not when there is a crime in progress,” Anna replied.

The door handle twisted. Castiel held his breath. Then the door opened.

Anna stood there, her red hair spread out around her head like a rivulet of fire. She looked like something mythical, a creature made of fire and justice and a Kevlar vest.

Castiel sagged down in relief, clutching Dean to him.

Anna took one look at the scene, her eyes widening and yelled “We need some paramedics in here!”

This was it, Castiel realized. This was the miracle. This was the moment where he and Dean were enough.

It was over now. Crowley couldn’t walk away from this, couldn’t wash his hands clean. Castiel’s phone had been on when he’d made those threats. He’d broadcast to the whole of the FBI that he was planning on killing a man. There was proof, evidence and, Castiel thought as he saw Anna cuff Crowley, there was Crowley’s little black book. He hadn’t had time to hide it. He must still have it somewhere on him.

It wouldn’t just be Crowley that they’d brought down, it would be all of it. Every single corrupt cog in Crowley’s empire was going to be found and shut down.

Dean had done exactly what he’d said he would. He’d set Castiel free.

“Dean,” Castiel whispered, turning back to the man in his arms. “Dean, I love you.”

Dean smiled up at him.

Around them the world was falling apart. Paramedics rushed in, FBI agents swarmed all over the place, but Castiel could only see Dean’s smile. It was the only thing that mattered to him.


	4. Chapter 4

Three Years Later

Castiel was trying to dig out a stubborn weed when he felt a shadow fall over him. He looked up, shielding his eyes and smiled. Dean was standing there, holding a glass of lemonade in one hand. In his other hand he held the handle of his walking stick.

The doctors had worked on him tirelessly, but Dean was never going to have the full use of that leg again. Castiel still didn’t know all the details. Dean had asked him to leave court when the medical evidence was presented, but Castiel knew enough of what had happened. A bad break that still caused Dean pain when it was raining. It didn’t stop him from driving or hobbling about all over the place, chasing Castiel around the house, but it was a reminder that things had very nearly been much worse.

The trial had dragged on, lasting the better part of a year and that was after the year the FBI spent putting their case together. Castiel had feared for the longest time that the case would be thrown out on a technicality, that Crowley’s lawyer would find some loophole to set him free, but Anna’s boss Naomi was methodical and by the book. When it can to the trail there were no loose ends, no loopholes.

The guilty verdict against Crowley and the life sentence handed down to him hadn’t felt real to Castiel in the courtroom. It was only when he received an annulment of his marriage that he really knew he was free of the man.

Everything for the last three years had been upheaval. Living in safe houses and hotel rooms, waiting to testify, worrying that it would never happen. Then witness protection, moving across state, changing names.

Dean had become Dean Smith and Castiel, after one nervous hurried proposal from Dean, had become Cas Smith.

They lived in a small town in a little house, the kind that had a white picket fence around it. Castiel had a cat and a vegetable garden that he tended tirelessly without seeing any result. Dean had a beautiful vintage car he was restoring by hand. There were butterflies in the lavender bushes and bees that buzzed around the flower beds.

No-one knew who they’d been before they came there and no-one cared. They were free.

“You shouldn’t sit out here in the sun,” Dean grouched, trying to pass him the glass of lemonade. “You’ll get sunstroke.”

Castiel stood up, taking the glass from Dean and pressing a kiss to his husband’s lips.

“I love you too,” he said softly, leaning his forehead against Dean’s.

Dean’s cheeks were pink and he muttered something about being embarrassed under his breath.

Castiel knew Dean had never thought he deserved this kind of life. He never thought he deserved white picket fences and someone who loved him.

Castiel intended to spend the rest of his life proving to Dean that he was worth all of this.

Without him, Castiel would still be pinned like a beautiful butterfly, dead and cold, unable to fly free. He had saved him, just like he’d said he would.

Dean was worth everything to Castiel.

 


End file.
